A Very Long Day
by MetamorphmagusLupin
Summary: AU. Teaching dunderheads had been difficult; being a spy, even more so. Manipulating the Darkest wizard of the age had been nothing short of taxing. And yet, there are days when everything pales in comparison to parenting.
1. From the Attic to the Cellar

**_OK, here we go with another glimpse in the life of Severus and Zoe. This is another story from Zoe's eighth year and takes place in the summer after _Christmas Eve Justice _and_, _perhaps, a few weeks after _Of Gnomes and Dark Magic_. Reading those two stories isn't necessary, per se, but I think reading all the stories leading up to this one will help in understanding my characterizations. Also, pay attention. I am going to return to some events that take place in this story later in my full-length fic of Zoe's first year at Hogwarts._**

**_Lastly, I need to post a shout out to _1066AndAllThat_ for chatting with me about Severus and all things British. You really are the best!_**

**_Enjoy._**

**MetamorphmagusLupin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: From the Attic to the Cellar<strong>

It had started out like any other Saturday.

Severus had awoken as early as he normally did and had been surprised to find Zoe already at the breakfast table when he entered into the kitchen. The girl had seemed distracted, he noted, especially once he had informed her that, due to him needing to get some work finished, her lessons would be pushed to the following day, but that he wished for her to read ahead in her English text. He had expected some form of rejoice on her part. Instead, the eight-year-old had given him a rather annoyed, but resigned look, nodded her head in understanding and then almost immediately asked to be excused.

Severus had allowed her to go, but the incident had distracted him all morning. Of course, that had made it difficult for him to concentrate on the mountain of paperwork he needed to finish before he could even begin to brew the potions for which his clients had optioned him.

What had had Zoe so…preoccupied? Surely, she was glad of her extra free time this morning? After all, though Zoe was an excellent student overall, it was like pulling teeth to get her to settle down and actually do her schoolwork, to sit through an entire lesson without a rebuke.

Zoe _was_ a brilliant child, but with a certain amount of cleverness came unending curiosity. For Severus, that curiosity was an ever-present throbbing in his temple and the development of a few errant gray hairs along his scalp. The girl just couldn't seem to stay out of trouble. He'd done everything he could think of: given her things to read (she'd devoured them and then was in trouble again), he tried threatening her with everything he'd always used on his students, but this was her home and there wasn't exactly detention in which he could banish her. Even his stern glares only went so far in stemming her troublesome ways.

This morning, Severus had assumed that she would take her freedom to the back garden or perhaps to the park down the road, especially considering how fine a spring day it was. However, the time was after ten in the morning now and he had yet to see her pass by the open door of his study on her way outdoors.

He had just resolved himself to focus when, suddenly, Severus was pulled from his musings, as a resonate boom issued from the floor over his study, causing the entire house to shake. He looked up as if gazing at the ceiling and heavy beams over his head would reveal the root of the chaos above.

The attic had always been Zoe's bedroom—since she'd began toddling, anyway—and, though Severus enjoyed the peace having his daughter on a different level of the house often gave him, she was never where he could easily keep an eye on her. He had learned the hard way more than once that, predictably, the girl would find whatever trouble there was to be had if he didn't keep a careful watch over her.

Severus rose quickly from his chair and navigated himself through the first floor to the door and narrow stairwell that led to the attic. As he climbed, a putrid, spicy smoke stung his nostrils and made his eyes water. He came to a halt on the top step, surveying the room with its shortened walls and slanted ceiling.

Zoe kept her bedroom relatively tidy under normal circumstances, yet the accumulation of furniture in the tiny space always made Severus feel that there was more she could do to clean. At the moment, however, the entire attic was a wreck. Something like rubble scattered the hardwood floor and had left a fine dusting on Zoe's daybed and the strange, turquoise-colored papasan chair in the corner. At the far end next to the small window that looked out toward the river, he could see her small desk where the unmistakable remnants of an exploded potion cauldron were evident as a slimy, taupe-colored mess covered the ceiling, walls, and nearly every other surface in varying degrees.

But where was Zoe?

The smoke had already cleared significantly allowing Severus to see most of the room, but she was nowhere in sight. He stepped up fully into the room and was about to investigate more when a messy, ponytailed head of dark hair suddenly peeked out from behind the daybed against the wall and eyed the desiccated cauldron on the desk. The girl had apparently dived out of harm's way when the situation got out of hand. She looked like she was all right, but she didn't seem to have noticed her father standing there as she crawled over the bed and picked up a smoking book from the floor.

Putting aside his initial relief, Severus approached her, suddenly incensed by her carelessness.

"Zoe Ophelia Elizabeth," he raged. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

Zoe jumped and spun around to face her father—her eyes wide—as she futilely tried to block his view of the makeshift workbench. When he towered over her, his gaze fierce, she quickly averted her eyes to the floor, embarrassed, as she mumbled something inaudibly.

Severus rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Ridiculous child! Speak up!"

Zoe flinched, but stood solidly. She took a deep breath then spoke more clearly.

"I said I was just trying to brew Pepperup Potion."

She turned towards the desk, set the book upon it and attempted to explain.

"I don't really know what went wrong. I put in the diced mandrake root—like it says—and stirred thirteen times. I had just added the habanero pepper seed because it says that one is needed for decon— er, decongestion. It says to add only one for a cauldron this size and I did that, but then I got the juice on my hands and they started to burn so I tried to wipe it off, but flames started coming out of the cauldron and…" Zoe reached for the potions book that Severus now noticed was heavily charred on the front cover and several of the pages were still smoking slightly. "…my book caught on fire and I tried to put it out, then the whole thing started to bubble and hiss and—"

Zoe stopped babbling when she looked up and saw the furious expression on her father's face. She averted her eyes to the floor once more.

"Well, you can see what happened."

"Indeed," said Severus harshly, beyond annoyed. He leaned forward to peer in at the remaining contents of the cauldron before noticing that Zoe was attempting to pull the sleeves of her robes down over her hands. He reached out and pulled her hands up to examine them. Both her palms and most of her fingers were burned red and glistened with ooze.

"You are injured."

Zoe winced and pulled her hands away.

"It's not that bad," she said, trying to hide them from view once more, but unable to mask from her face the obvious pain they were causing her.

Severus frowned down upon his daughter with authority.

"That is utter nonsense. Follow me. There is burn paste and essence of dittany in the laboratory." Then he swept toward the stairs and out of sight, leaving no room for argument.

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><p>Her father walked determinedly ahead of her and Zoe watched as he pulled his wand from the sleeve of his black shirt and pointed it at doors to spell them open before them. She was fully aware that he tended to resort to magic for simple tasks most when he was especially irritated and she took note of the practice now. Zoe also knew all too well that she'd broken the rules and as she reluctantly followed her father down three flights of stairs to his cellar laboratory, she tried to mentally prepare herself for the impending raised-voice lecture and subsequent punishment.<p>

When they entered into the modest lab, her father Summoned a stool from beneath his workbench and pointed a finger toward it, silently commanding that Zoe sit down on it.

Without so much as a glance over his shoulder to make sure that she had obeyed, Zoe watched as her father marched to a shelf containing a wide array of bottles, vials and beakers and began to look through them. Not daring to say a word, she sat timidly upon the stool next to the workbench where he brewed for his work and began anxiously tapping her feet against the rungs, splaying her red, burned palms on her lap.

The air in the room was palpably thick with unspoken disappointment. There was no doubt that her father was appalled by her behavior—her blatant disobedience and carelessness—but all Zoe sensed radiating from him was anger.

She was disappointed in him, too. Disappointed that he seemed more concerned with her actions than with the fact that she had now been sitting there for several minutes in quite a bit of pain and he hadn't even asked her if she was all right.

She wasn't stupid. She knew that her father could easily summon the bottle of dittany he needed—he'd been perfectly willing to use magic to simply traipse through the house, after all. Instead, he stood on the other side of the room with his back to her, looking through every vial, checking every single label as if he had all the time in the world. Zoe knew he was only drawing this out to teach her a lesson. Tough love—that's what Minerva sometimes told her.

Finally, her father seemed to find what he was looking for and Zoe watched as he unstoppered a bottle of brownish liquid and poured a generous amount into a small, wooden bowl. He picked up the bowl and walked across the room, setting the dittany on the workbench next to Zoe.

He then proceeded to open a cabinet above her head and look through it. After a moment, he pulled a small tin out and opened it, revealing a thick, orange paste, which he sat on the workbench next to the bowl.

Zoe watched as he pulled out his wand once more and nonverbally conjured a clean cloth out of thin air and dipped it into the dittany. He moved to stand directly in front of her and delicately took her right hand in his left and began dabbing the dittany-soaked cloth onto her raw skin, from palm to fingertips and back. Almost instantly, Zoe's hand burned a little less and the tingling, stinging sensation began to subside. Soon, her father moved on to her left hand.

As he laid the cloth onto her skin, however, a white-hot pain shot up her entire arm causing her to hiss and recoil as new flesh grew quickly to cover the seeping blisters. Her father held her left hand firmly and forced the cloth onto her palm.

"It feels like it's getting worse," Zoe complained. "I thought this was going to make it better!"

"It's just the dittany working," her father stated plainly, struggling to keep her still.

Zoe continued to fidget and moan in pain and she knew by the deep frown on her father's face that she was aggravating him but she didn't care about anything but her burning hand at the moment.

"You have done some pretty dunderheaded things, young lady, but I must say this one really takes the prize," he lectured scathingly. "Brewing potions in your bedroom…You could have blown the entire roof off this house, obliterated the attic and everything in it. If you ask me, you were lucky. You could have been much more severely injured than you are now. You could have been _killed_. I would ask you what you were thinking, but judging by the state of your hands and the attic, it is quite clear to me that you weren't thinking at all. You should be ashamed of your idiocy."

Her father glared at her. She couldn't help but glower defiantly back, but as she opened her mouth to reply, her father once more compressed the dittany cloth against her palm and sternly eyed her in warning. She winced as the fiery pain shot up her arm again causing her to forget the sassy comment that had been on the tip of her tongue. She tried to pull away from his grasp, to cradle her injured hand, but her father caught her by the wrist, forcing her to remain still. There was nothing for Zoe to do but squirm on her stool and pout in protest.

"The burns on this hand are considerably more severe, Zoe. Be still and give the remedy a chance to work," her father said through gritted teeth.

"But it hurts!" whined Zoe loudly as she desperately tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

"Well, perhaps if you didn't _steal_ _supplies_ and secretly concoct potions, _unsupervised_, that you aren't qualified to brew, things like this wouldn't happen," her father sneered, focused entirely on dabbing more of the painful liquid onto her palm.

Zoe was so incensed that he was causing her more pain and essentially telling her how stupid she was, she didn't even think that it would probably be more sensible for her to simply sit quietly and tolerate his disapprobation.

"Maybe if you didn't leave your stores _unlocked_, I wouldn't be so tempted to steal them," she retorted boldly instead, not sure why that mattered at all, but giving in to the surge of anger that had swept through her at his censure.

That did it. Any restraint her father had been exercising before went out the proverbial window. He slammed the cloth down on the workbench causing the bowl of dittany to slosh about as he yanked Zoe's wrist toward him forcefully and lowered himself down to look her in the eyes, getting so close that his nose nearly collided with hers.

"And perhaps a well-placed _Stinging_ _Hex_ will teach you to obey me," he hissed menacingly.

Zoe's eyes widened and she gasped at his threat. She quickly lowered her gaze to her knees, mortified, as her father righted his posture and resumed adding the dittany to her wounds, a bit more forceful this time. Zoe was hardly even aware of the throbbing in her hands as the silence between them stretched on for several minutes.

Eventually, her father laid the cloth aside and silently added the burn paste to her raw palms before wrapping Zoe's hands in long pieces of gauze. He vanished the cloth, put the tin back into the cabinet and moved across to the sink to discard the remaining dittany.

Zoe stared down at her lap, examining her hands. There was a slight ache and residual cooling sensation from the paste, but the worst of the pain was gone; it was more uncomfortable than anything now.

Brewing the potion had been stupid. She saw that now. And she had known all along that she would be caught, but it hadn't even occurred to her that she could get hurt. Pepperup was a second year-level potion and Zoe had been reading about it, had even heard her father speak of how mundane it was for him to brew. She had thought it would be easy but she'd just…made a mistake somewhere. She thought she had been following the instructions to the letter. There must have been some other factor she hadn't thought about. Perhaps her father would—

No. He was angry with her. She had been a dunderhead—and her father _hated_ dunderheads.

Zoe chanced a glance across the room at her father. His back was turned to her and he was being rather forceful in the way he was handling the vials on the shelf.

Why did she have to provoke him? She had been stupid and he had only been giving her a well-earned scolding and she had talked back, angered him even more. Why couldn't she have just kept her mouth shut?

Nonetheless, his threat had scared her. He'd never threatened to use magic to punish her before. At least not in such a way that she would have taken him seriously, not really. Nevertheless, he had definitely seemed serious this time and as that thought crossed her mind, she was suddenly aware that she had asked her question aloud.

"Papa? Would you really…you know, hex me?"

Her father stopped replacing vials to the shelf instantly. He hesitated, and then slowly turned to look over his shoulder at her. Zoe thought she saw a tinge of remorse on his face, but it was gone before she could be sure. Her father frowned and seemed to consider her for a long time then he turned his back on her once again to tidy the potions on the shelf.

"It will be an hour or two before those burns are fully healed after which you will be expected in the conservatory to prune herbs and dig up roots to replenish my stocks as punishment. If you can't show common sense in handling volatile potions ingredients, you will stick to harmless ones." He turned and walked back to her, a tiny crystal vial filled with a cloudy liquid clutched between his fingers. "Is that understood?"

Zoe nodded, figuring that was his way of answering her question. "Yes, sir."

"Drink this. It will assist with the pain."

Her father handed her the vial, which she downed in one gulp and gagged. It smelled rancid and tasted awful, but Zoe didn't feel she should complain about it as she handed the vial back to her father. The pain in her hands was already starting to subside considerably.

Then, without preamble, her father put his hands under arms, lifted her up and sat her on the edge of the workbench. Zoe looked up at him with mild confusion as her feet dangled above the floor. He positioned himself directly in front of her with each of his hands resting on the surface of the high table on either side of Zoe, his face not only almost completely even with hers, but very close. When he spoke, his words were exceptionally stern.

"There is something that you are going to understand."

Zoe fidgeted a bit, but her father stilled her with a hand on her thigh. She knew that tiny dose of lecture a few minutes ago had been too good to be true.

"The theft of potions ingredients will not be tolerated," he said with finality. "First of all, you know better. Despite the items being stored in your own home, what you did isn't any different than taking a sweet from a shop without paying for it. The substances you took are used for my work and they can be very costly. This had better not happen again."

"No, sir."

Her father stared into her eyes intensely. Zoe tried to hold his gaze, to let him know that she was listening and she was penitent, but soon, she couldn't hold it any longer and she looked down at her hands.

"Look at me, Zoe, this next part is more important."

Zoe obeyed, raising her head back up. There wasn't anger on his face, but there was definitely a solid resolve, as if he had been thinking about what he was about to say to her. It was as if he had made a difficult decision.

"As for brewing without supervision, you are never _ever_ to do so. Not until you have proven your proficiency, which, I assure you, will be several years from now. Brewing is highly dangerous, especially for the inexperienced. You could have been killed in that explosion, young lady. That sort of senseless risk-taking is unacceptable. If you come across a potion you are interested in and wish to try it, you will ask me for assistance. If I feel the potion is both within your abilities and worth my while, then I will make sure that the ingredients are obtained and, together, we can attempt it. If there is a repeat of this or a similar incident…" He eyed her sternly, sighed heavily and paused, seeming to steel himself. "…I can assure you that a few burns on your hands will be the least of your worries."

Zoe absolutely believed him. She didn't know what he had in mind, but she had no desire to find out.

"Do you understand me, Zoe?" he asked after she had remained silent a bit too long for his tastes.

She nodded her head emphatically.

"Yes, Papa. I won't ever brew by myself again."

Her father inclined his head and then lifted her off the workbench, placing her on her feet on the stone floor.

"Now you may go and clean up the mess you made in your bedroom. Ollie will not be helping you," he said sternly, looking down on her.

Zoe nodded and started to make her way out of the laboratory. As she reached the doorway, however, her father spoke behind her.

"And Zoe…"

Zoe looked back, her bandaged hand on the door handle.

"I also expect you to understand exactly where you went wrong today. I don't want to hear any wild speculations. You will be brewing that potion again—_with supervision_ this time—and _not_ in your bedroom; there is neither adequate space nor appropriate ventilation."

Zoe quirked a smile, nodded, and exited_. Maybe he isn't so angry after all_, she thought. Her father had said he would brew a potion with her and Zoe couldn't have been happier.

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><p><strong><em>Don't judge Sev too harshly yet! At least wait for the full story... Please review. <em>**


	2. From the Cellar to Malfoy Manor and Back

**_This chapter has been finished for awhile and I was going to try to wait to post it until later in the week, but I got a bit impatient with myself._**

**_Enjoy._**

**MetamorphmagusLupin**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: From the Cellar to Malfoy Manor and Back<strong>

Severus shook his head. As he turned back to his stocks, he couldn't help but allow a subtle smirk to grace his own features, but then he frowned.

The girl was becoming a danger to herself. This incessant curiosity, the disobedience; she'd stolen from his stores, for Merlin's sake. She knew far better than that. And he'd just let her walk away with a bit of chores in the conservatory. It was a slap on the wrist, really. After all, she could have been more seriously injured.

She _could_ have been killed.

Although, perhaps Zoe's burnt hands were punishment enough for her foolishness… Fearing another injury, she would more than likely think twice before attempting to brew on her own again, after all. Yet, he wasn't sure that he had made his own disappointment and frustration clear enough to her. Severus shook his head.

No, he had simply been harsh with her and threatened her so that she thought he would actually resort to hexing her to ensure good behavior. That was not the message he had wanted to convey at all. That had been nothing but sheer exasperation and annoyance with her actions and cheek bursting forth without any thought. In essence, he had snapped; he would have to watch that in the future.

Severus sighed. He just knew that he would not—could not in a million years—use a hex on his child. It had pained him to see the fear in Zoe's eyes—to see her shrink away from him—and he had regretted his threat the second he had uttered it.

Of course, that regret hadn't curbed his parental urge to denounce the girl's thievery and foolish, endangering disobedience with a well-earned smacking. He had really only refrained from doing so briefly in order to finish the first aid on her hands and to give himself time to check his temper following her brazen accusation.

But then she'd spoken to him. She had asked him in that small, cautious voice if he would really ever hex her and the inclination to correct her behavior physically had left his mind entirely. Corporal discipline now seemed nothing short of overkill as he thought about how he had stood wrapping her petite, scorched, and undoubtedly painful hands in gauze.

If Severus was to be truly honest with himself, he had been uncharacteristically thrilled that the girl was suddenly so interested in potion making—his passion—for she'd never shown much of an interest before. He had seen that, despite her blunder, Zoe still seemed genuinely enthusiastic about the potion she had attempted which, in turn, made him all the less motivated to punish her for her mistake. Gods, he had truly gone soft.

No matter.

He would assist her in brewing the Pepperup again, but he would make it abundantly clear his expectations if she wished to continue to brew. He would make her cautious, but not afraid. He would help her to hone her natural abilities and instincts and teach her about the magical essence that must be put into every brew.

And he would have to make sure that she understood that carelessness and further theft would reap severe consequences.

Nodding to himself in resolve, Severus turned and exited the cellar, heading for his daughter's attic bedroom. After all, there was no way she would be able to clean most of the chaos she had created without some magical assistance, never mind her practically unusable hands.

He had just entered into the sitting room on his way upstairs when the Floo roared to life. Severus froze as the blond head of Draco Malfoy appeared amongst the green flames.

"Did you forget?" the younger wizard asked good-naturedly as he spotted Severus moving toward him.

"Forget?" Severus was confused.

"The contract? The one you said you would help me to write this morning? For the investment with that Texan bloke, remember?"

Severus hardly had to wrack his brains. Yes, he had forgotten and the morning hadn't exactly been one conducive to suddenly remembering a meeting with Draco. Severus closed his eyes briefly, annoyed with himself.

"I did, indeed, Draco. I apologize. Please, allow me to…deal with something. I shall be there shortly."

"Certainly, Severus. Take your time."

He had nodded and continued upstairs where a few waves of his wand had restored Zoe's bedroom to its former state.

Again, he had assumed that Zoe would be delighted once she found out that her penalty chores in the conservatory would be pushed to the following day owing to their need to spend a few hours at Malfoy Manor, but the girl had instantly become sulky instead. She had even whined to be left at home with Ollie.

"After nearly blowing up the house? I think not," Severus had stated resolutely, raising a single, challenging eyebrow at Zoe's indignant frown.

When he and Zoe had arrived in the library of Malfoy Manor, Severus wasn't surprised to find that Draco had kept Scorpius close by, for the two fathers had learned the hard way more than once that their children could hardly be trusted out of their respective parents' sights while under the same roof as each other.

The library was large—as every room in the sprawling manor was—with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves situated between enormous, dark-wood columns. Four tall windows took up one side of the room and a grand piano stood in one corner. Severus noticed that Draco had added to his collection of books since last he'd been in the room.

Following the downfall of the Dark Lord and, subsequently, the Malfoy family name, Draco had pulled every last Dark Arts book from the shelves—a centuries-old collection—and destroyed them. The library had been nearly barren for months until the son of Lucius had taken an interest in rare and not-so-rare books of all forms, from all over the world. Where once the vilest of magical tomes resided, there now stood travel diaries, encyclopedias, books of artwork and music and languages, as well as fictional literature—both Muggle and magical.

For their meeting that day, Draco had commandeered the largest of the tables in the library. Scorpius sat at a table opposite, doodling on a piece of parchment with a few books and wizarding toys beside him. Walking fully into the space, Severus placed a hand between Zoe's shoulder blades and indicated that she should take a seat at the table across from the boy, who had immediately glared daggers at his rival. Zoe scowled, but didn't protest, as Severus approached Draco.

"Allow me to apologize for my tardiness once again, Draco. It's been a rather trying morning," he said, giving a significant glance toward his daughter.

"It isn't a problem, Severus, really," Draco said, giving a bit of a good-natured chuckle showing he understood, to a certain degree, Severus's meaning. "With any luck, it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours to get this contract spelled out."

"Agreed," Severus nodded, conjuring a long, blank scroll and a quill and ink with his wand as he took a seat on one side of the table.

"Now, I think it best to first lay down an outline of some sort. The headings may become the points and sub points for the true document later, of course."

Draco nodded. "Of course. You're better at these sorts of things than I am. I just want to be certain that there are no loopholes for these scoundrels to crawl through."

"We've already discussed the main points. I don't think there is any reason to believe that such loopholes will exist."

Draco nodded again. "Excellent."

The two men worked steadily for nearly an hour. Every once in a while, Severus would glance to the children across the room. He'd heard a few rushed whispers in the time since they had been placed across from each other, but they seemed to be sitting in utter silence for the most part. He knew that Zoe would be content to read for hours, but that didn't mean the animosity the children had toward each other wouldn't rear its ugly head at some point. And, though he felt slightly guilty for thinking it, Severus had no doubt that his godson would consider boredom an appropriate excuse to pester Zoe who would—inevitably—retaliate in a manner far from the realm of what could be deemed couth.

"What do you think about this?" Draco asked suddenly, sliding a piece of parchment toward Severus.

Severus looked down at the table to read the long stipulation Draco had written out.

"Hmm… it's a bit vague. I think that it would be prudent to—"

There was suddenly an eruption of varying cracks and pops from the opposite side of the room. "Dad, Uncle Severus! Zoe knocked down my Exploding Snap card castle!" Scorpius tattled.

"He's lying! I did not! There was a draft! It blew down on its own!"

"That's enough, Zoe," Severus reprimanded evenly.

"But Papa, I—"

Severus eyed his daughter authoritatively and she quieted.

"But what about my castle?" Scorpius whined loudly, looking at the adults incredulously.

Draco sighed heavily. "Scorpius, just…build a new one."

Scorpius's shoulders fell in disappointment. "But isn't she going to get in trouble? Dad…"

"Scorpius," Draco said more forcefully, "Give it a rest."

Scorpius wrinkled his nose at his father and slumped back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Severus noticed his daughter's lip quirk slightly upwards behind her book but had no way of proving whether she was smirking about getting away with something or if she was merely reveling in Scorpius not getting his way.

Barely ten minutes later, he and Draco were interrupted once again, this time by the unmistakable sound of ripping paper and a scream.

"Papa! Scorpius ripped a page out of my book!"

"I didn't! She's just trying to get me in trouble!"

"Am not! You did it!"

"Did not!"

Draco sighed again and rubbed his forehead in one of his hands, obviously frustrated. Severus closed his eyes momentarily, trying to remain calm, and then frowned at the offspring.

"Quiet!" he growled to the children who both did just that. Severus took a deep breath and looked at Zoe. "How did the page get ripped out of the book?"

Zoe held the paper up, exasperated. "I was trying to read and Scorpius reached over and just ripped it out!"

"Scorpius, is that true?" Draco asked, aggravation starting to leak into his tone.

"No!"

"Zoe, did you rip the page out of the book?" Severus then asked his daughter.

Zoe looked affronted that he would even suggest that she would do such a thing. "No."

"So, the page just detached itself of its own accord. Is that correct?" This time he looked from one child to the other. He had no idea who had done it, but perhaps a little scrutiny would elicit a guilty expression from one of them. However, neither of them was giving anything away until—

"He did it!" Zoe screeched, pointing an accusing finger at Scorpius.

"You lie!" Scorpius countered, choosing to lob one of his toys at Zoe who ducked to the side. The dragon figurine missed her but sailed to the wall behind her, hitting it with a loud thud.

"Scorpius!" Draco scolded.

Severus doubted the boy had even heard the remonstration from his father, however, for Zoe—looking scandalized for only a split second—chose that moment to chuck her own book at Scorpius, hitting him on the shoulder.

"Ouch!" Scorpius yowled melodramatically, gripping his shoulder.

Severus rose then and walked swiftly to the other table where he grabbed his daughter's arm and pulled her from her chair and toward the exit. Zoe watched him cautiously as he dragged her into the corridor and closed the door behind them. Once outside the room, Severus pushed his daughter's back against the wall and looked down on her sternly.

"Tell me. Is it your ambition to spend our morning here sequestered with your nose in a corner?" he hissed.

"No," Zoe said, shaking her head, her wide eyes all conviction.

Severus let go of her robes and stood upright. He knew the threat would have that effect on her; to be put in a time-out situation in front of the Malfoys—especially Scorpius—would be nothing short of ultimate mortification. "Then I suggest you alter your behavior with all possible haste for your current course of conduct is most assuredly leading you in that direction."

"But, Papa, Scorpius was—"

"I _do_ _not_ _care_ what Scorpius was doing. What have I told you every other time these conflicts between the two of you have occurred?"

Zoe frowned. "Don't retaliate," she breathed out with every indication that she had heard him say it a thousand times before—as she very nearly had.

"Yes. You _will_ _not_ retaliate. Now, Mr. Malfoy and I are trying to work. I expect you to act with the proper decorum for the duration of this outing. Do you understand me?"

Zoe looked down at her feet then, thoroughly chastened. "Yes, sir," she spoke softly, fidgeting.

"All right, then. Get inside, pick up your book and behave yourself."

His daughter nodded, still looking to the floor and preceded her father into the room. Severus watched her walk back to her table and noticed that Draco must have exchanged words with his son as well, if the sour, yet subdued look upon Scorpius's face was anything to go by.

The blond boy now sat absolutely still and quiet and he only raised his eyes briefly when Severus and Zoe reentered the room. Zoe grabbed up her book from the floor where it had fallen after bouncing off Scorpius's shoulder and took her seat without a peep while Severus sat once again in his chair and pulled the parchment toward himself.

"Now, shall we?" he asked Draco.

"Please," the younger man responded, indicating the partial contract.

Another half hour passed by without a word from either child and Severus was pleased with the progress he and Draco were making.

"I think there should be included a clause about funds obtained from third parties in this section here," Severus recommended.

"Yes, I think that may be a good idea," said Draco. "I don't think we should trust that all the witches and wizards would come by their Galleons legally. They should have to show some sort of proof of income."

"A statement from their employer should suffice."

"Agreed."

As Severus used a spare piece of parchment to write out the various ways in which the clause could be worded—scratching out words, using his wand to reorder them sometimes—there was a crash as several of Scorpius's toys clattered to the polished, hardwood floor of the library. In the blink of an eye, both Zoe and Scorpius were struggling with one another on the ground beside their table.

"What the bloody hell is going on this time?" Severus asked, exasperated, looking from the children up to the other father in the room.

Draco sighed heavily once again. "I don't know. They were perfectly fine thirty seconds ago." After a moment, he eyed Severus knowingly. "I don't think our children want us to finish this today."

"Apparently not," Severus stated, scowling down at his daughter and godson grappling on the floor like uncivilized Neanderthals. "I may be able to persuade Minerva to take Zoe next Saturday, if you are free."

"I'll make sure that I am free and childless," Draco said. "Same place, same time?"

Severus inclined his head in agreement.

"Brilliant. Now, would you like to split them apart or shall I?"

"I'll do it," Severus said, pointing his wand at the children.

Instantly, Zoe and Scorpius flew apart from each other as if an invisible barrier had grown between them. They didn't even acknowledge that their fathers were staring down at them angrily and instead were trying everything in their power to continue their squabble through the magical force Severus had erected.

Severus rolled his eyes.

"See you Saturday, then," he sighed to Draco before striding to the opposite end of the room.

He found himself once more pulling Zoe to her feet as he held her firmly.

"We're Apparating," he said abruptly, though it was much more of a command to the girl to stop shuffling around if she didn't wish to be splinched, than a simple statement of what was about to happen.

When the two of them arrived in their back garden an instant later, Severus immediately pulled his daughter in through the back door, through the kitchen and to the sitting room. He crossed it in only a few strides and pulled the bookcase door open to reveal the narrow staircase to the upper floors before unhanding his daughter and snatching her book from her grasp.

"Upstairs," he said, pointing up. "Go to your bedroom. You are not to leave it except to use the loo until I have said otherwise."

Zoe frowned. "But, Papa, it wasn't—"

"It would not be in your best interests to argue with me," Severus warned, leaning down toward his daughter menacingly. "Go. _Now_."

Zoe's shoulders slumped and she wrinkled up her face in displeasure. Groaning, she began stomping her way up the stairs.

"Zoe," Severus said, his tone cautioning her. The girl bristled slightly, checked her attitude, and continued her climb without the dramatic footfalls.

When his daughter disappeared from view at the top of the stairs, Severus slowly closed the door and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Merlin, grant me patience with this child," he said aloud.

Deciding a headache potion was in order before he could even begin to concentrate on the small bit of brewing he needed to finish, Severus tossed Zoe's book into his armchair and made his way toward the cellar door.

* * *

><p>Zoe sat on the floor in her bedroom staring off into space. She didn't know how her father did it, but when he sent her to her room as punishment, somehow all of her games and books magically disappeared leaving her with nothing but furniture. <em>You're sent up there to think quietly about your misbehavior, not to play<em>, her father had said sternly when she questioned him about the phenomenon.

Zoe hated being punished. It was boring. She had tried twice to play checkers against herself with an old board her father was unaware that she had snuck up and hidden behind the loose baseboard several weeks before. But it wasn't any fun when you knew exactly which moves your opponent was going to make. Not to mention there were pieces missing.

This was all Scorpius's fault. She may have _accidently_ blown down his card castle, but that was no reason to ruin a perfectly good piece of literature. Besides, the copy of _The Adventures of Cleo Callisto_ wasn't even hers. Minerva had allowed Zoe to borrow the entire fictional series as enjoyable reading to offset her father's sometimes rigorous school curriculum and now, Zoe had to figure out how she was going to explain to her godmother that Scorpius was a prat and didn't know the first thing about properly respecting books.

Zoe looked up at the small clock next to her bed. She had been in solitary confinement for just under two hours now. Ollie had even had to bring her lunch up on a tray.

_How long is Papa going to make me stay up here?_ Zoe wondered inwardly as she laid on her back, looking up into the rafters.

_Pop!_

Zoe sat up instantly, startled, to see Ollie standing directly in front of her.

"Oh, hi, Ollie," she said, taking a deep breath. "You scared me."

The house elf looked rather sheepish. "Ollie isn't meaning to scares Miss Zoe."

"It's all right," Zoe said, shrugging.

Ollie nodded a little more vigorously than was necessary before continuing. "Ollie is being sent to tells Miss Zoe that her Papa wants to sees her in the cellar."

"Now?" Zoe asked.

Again, Ollie nodded exuberantly before disappearing with a snap of her fingers. Zoe took a deep breath and rose to her feet to make the trek down to her father's potions cellar.

Zoe opened the door slowly and cringed as the creak of the rusty hinges cut through the near silence of the cellar. As she made her way down the stairs, she saw that her father was standing with his back to the door and a cauldron simmering in front of him. He looked over his shoulder briefly and saw her standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Come here," he commanded quietly as he turned back to the cauldron, picked up a glass, stirring rod and began to stir.

Zoe took another deep breath and made her way to her father's side, looking at his hands stirring rather than at what she was sure was a scowl on his face.

"Can you tell me why you were sent to your bedroom?" he asked, keeping his attention on the cauldron.

Zoe sighed and looked down at her shoes. She hated this part of being punished the most; recounting her transgression back to her father. "Because I acted inapp— inprop— inproprit—"

"Inappropriately," her father helped her.

"Yeah, that. I acted like that at the Manor when you and Mr. Malfoy were working."

Zoe looked up but her father's face was still a stern frown. She figured it wouldn't be a good idea to add, _Even though it was all Scorpius's fault, _to the statement_. _

"And?" her father encouraged.

Zoe frowned. What more was there?

"And… I, er… shouldn't have?"

Her father pursed his lips as he took the cauldron from the burner and set it aside to cool. He turned to face Zoe directly.

"You're right, you shouldn't have. However, that is not the answer I was looking for. What you should have said was that you were being punished for acting inappropriately today _and_ for continuing to disobey me regarding these little squabbles with Scorpius."

"Oh, right," Zoe said, looking to the floor once more.

Her father was silent for several moments and Zoe could feel his eyes on her.

"Did Scorpius really rip the page out of your book?" he asked.

Zoe looked up into her father's eyes and nodded emphatically.

"Mhmm," he hummed, as if confirming his suspicions. "Did you blow down his card castle first?" He eyed her sternly and Zoe knew that he would see right through any lie she may have told. Slowly, she nodded again.

"And you tried to get _him_ in trouble for it." It was not a question. "How many times must the two of you be told to stop with the schemes?"

Zoe looked down at her shoes and shrugged.

After a time, she looked up at her father through her eyelashes and saw him shake his head with disapproval. He heaved in a resolved breath.

"I think replacing what little privileged free time you had tomorrow afternoon with an hour or two of washing vials and beakers down here should be a sufficient behavior adjustment," he said, looking down his nose at Zoe, who merely nodded, defeated.

Her father cupped her chin then so that Zoe would look up at him. She could tell the real part of the lecture was coming.

"I do hope that is all it takes to make an impression upon you about this matter," he said sternly. "I've told you more than once that these ploys to see how much trouble you and Scorpius can get each other in to were unacceptable but the barbaric brawling I witnessed today is most definitely not going to be tolerated in the future, young lady. It is uncivilized and settles nothing. Now, I know that you and Scorpius aren't exactly friends and I could never hope to force such a notion upon you, but you will respect each other whether you like one another or not."

"He always starts it," Zoe mumbled.

"Today, he did not," her father reminded her, releasing her chin. "And frankly, I don't care who starts it. Either you will end it on your own in an acceptable manner or Mr. Malfoy or I will end it and there will be consequences. In future, I want to see more of an effort on your part to get along with him."

_Fat chance_. "Yes, Papa," Zoe said obediently.

Her father eyed her a moment longer, then nodded once and walked to one of his storage cabinets. "If you can manage to stay out of trouble, you may go outdoors and play until dinner. Expel some energy, for with your schooling and various added chores, you will not be given the opportunity tomorrow."

Zoe didn't need telling twice. She spun on her heel, rocketed up the stairs, and was in the back garden in a matter of seconds. Making her way past the ivy and weeds, she managed to get through the gate around the back of the greenhouse and was in the field heading toward the river soon after. _Finally, freedom_, she thought.

It didn't take long for her to find her favorite spot and she settled herself down in the lush grass under a tall willow a little ways from the bank of the dirty river. From her vantage point, she could see the smoke stacks of the old mill to her left and behind her were the rows upon rows of dingy brick houses. She knew the town wasn't much to look at, but it was her home and she could always find some sort of adventure (mischief, her father said) amongst the abandonment and along the shores of the river.

She leaned back against the trunk of the tree, picking at the grass around her, and tried to think of ways to get back at Scorpius for getting her into trouble yet again. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't even hear the group of children approach her until their shoes invaded her line of vision. When she squinted up, she saw that there were three boys standing around her.

"What are you wearing?" a red-haired boy a year or two older than Zoe asked. She knew him from her days at the Muggle primary school. His name was Eric and he was little more than a bully.

"Wearing?" Zoe looked down and only just then noticed that she was still dressed in her robes from her and her father's trip to Malfoy Manor. She'd worn robes out into the Muggle town again. Her father would not be pleased. "It's a, er…a dress."

"Doesn't look like a dress," the boy to her right said. He also had red hair, though it was darker and he was slightly taller than the other two, but Zoe knew that he was the youngest of the group and was, in fact, Eric's brother, Ivan. He and Zoe had had the same teacher just last year.

"Who asked you?" Zoe retorted. She really wasn't in the mood for a confrontation with these boys—the self-proclaimed tormenters of the neighborhood.

"Ooh, the little freak has cheek today," Eric mocked. "We might have to change that."

"Sod off," Zoe said, far from intimidated for her father always said that bullies were typically more bark than bite. "I was here first."

"Can't do that," Eric said. "You see this tree here? This is ours and nobody, especially not some scrawny, freaky little girl is allowed to sit under it."

"Yeah, nobody's allowed to sit under it but us," the boy Zoe didn't know said.

Zoe raised her eyebrow at the sandy-haired boy in an expression that was quite reminiscent of her father, and then scoffed.

"I don't see your name on it," she snapped.

"We don't need our names on it. Everyone knows this is our tree and if you know what's best for you, you'd leave."

Zoe rose to her feet then so as best to be able to look Eric in the eye. "I'm not going anywhere. I have just as much right as you."

"No you don't!" the sandy-haired boy countered. Zoe rolled her eyes.

"Well, you've told me," she said sardonically.

An instant later, she found herself on the ground, dusty and disoriented, with a trickle of blood coming out of her split lower lip. She didn't know who had hit her or why, really, but as the laughter above her rained down, Zoe felt a rage consume her.

She vaguely heard Ivan gasp something—something about red eyes—before she snarled and launched her full weight at Eric. The boy seemed caught off guard, no doubt surprised that such a small girl could pack so much power. She clung on to his shoulders with one hand and used her other fist to pummel one of his ears.

"Get off me, you freak!" Eric yelled, but Zoe wrapped her legs around the boy and pounded his chest, shoulders and arms, scratching, punching and slapping.

She heard the sounds of the other two boys yelling for her to get off, but seeing as how they seemed too scared to enter the fray, she didn't heed any of it. She was sick and tired of the neighborhood kids making fun of her and she wasn't going to take it anymore. The tears started to flow soon after and Zoe found herself straddled on top of Eric who had huddled himself on the ground and was doing his best to protect his face with his arms as he started to cry himself.

A minute of punching went by, maybe, before she was abruptly pulled off the cowering boy by strong hands. The person placed her on her feet but she looked to the ground, instantly very ashamed for what she had done. The sound of the blood pumping through her ears drowned out all the noise of the boys and the river around her. Breathing heavily, she registered seeing the boys run away out of the corner of her vision, their images becoming blurrier and blurrier as fat tears welled at the bottoms of her eyes.

Mustering up her courage, she finally looked up at the figure before her and her heart sank.

Her father looked far from pleased.


	3. From the River to Bed

Zoe's father looked down on her with a mixture of anger, shock, and confusion on his face. He too was wearing his wizard attire and Zoe saw him look around suspiciously before looking down at her again. For her part, Zoe just stared at him, sniffling, and feeling her heart rate slowly recede.

Her father took a deep breath in through his nose.

"Besides your lip, are you injured?" he asked.

"I d-don't—" Zoe started to say as her lower lip trembled profusely, but she caught sight of her ripped robes and saw a hint of blood on them as well. She must have scraped her knee; with the adrenaline of the fight pumping through her, she hadn't even noticed the injury.

Her father followed her line of sight down to her leg. He said nothing, merely nodded, as he came forward, placed his hands under her arms and scooped her up, pulling her to his chest and looping an arm under her seat to support her as he started quickly back across the expanse of field that separated their back garden from the river.

Zoe wrapped her arms around his neck, laid her head on his shoulder and continued to cry, trying to ignore the pain of her lip and knee. It all seemed so stupid now. The fight and everything leading up to it and now she was going to be in so much trouble. Hadn't her father just said that he wouldn't tolerate brawling? Zoe sniffled again.

Her father made his way through the house and climbed the stairs. Once at the top, he entered into the door on the left. Inside the bathroom, he sat Zoe down onto the closed lid of the toilet seat and moved to a cabinet where he removed a flannel. Wetting it under the tap then wringing it out, he handed it to Zoe.

"Wash your face," he said, his tone neutral.

Zoe did as she was told, rubbing the cool cloth all over her sweaty, tear-stained face. She hissed when it touched her lip and caused it to sting, however, and her father placed his hand on hers in order to pull it away. He cupped her chin and lifted her face up to him to examine the wound.

"Did I not say you could go outside only if you could manage to stay out of trouble?" he asked as he pulled his wand from an inner pocket of his robes. His tone wasn't admonishing in any way—it was almost teasing—which Zoe found surprising. She thought her father would be angry.

"Two brawls in one day…" He shook his head. "I never would have thought such a thing of a little girl."

Zoe averted her eyes to the rim of the bath as a feeling of shame enveloped her.

"I don't know whether to be proud that you seemed to be holding your own in a Muggle duel that was three against one," he continued, "or astonished that you would be so foolish as to partake in a fight with such abominable odds of victory."

Zoe could feel her heart racing faster.

"They started it!" she said loudly, looking up at him once more. She felt angry suddenly, but didn't know why. Angry and…upset and…worried and hurt.

"Yes, I know they did," her father said, somewhat resigned. "Hush now for a moment so I can heal this."

Zoe obeyed and sat quietly as her father sorted out her wounds for the second time that day. He waved his wand across her face, incanting lowly in a slow rhythm of Latin and, a minute later, the sting was gone and the split was healed. Her father lifted the flannel from her hands and used it to clean the remaining blood from her face.

Soon, he moved on to her knee. After ripping the already-torn fabric of her robes back for easier access, her father crouched down and examined the wound. He waved his wand and Zoe felt the tingle and slight sting of the disinfecting spell before another low chant had the cut sealing itself up. When he had finished, he used the flannel once again to wipe away any excess blood.

Eventually, he stood and looked down on his daughter. He watched her for a moment and Zoe knew her bottom lip was trembling and her breathing had started to hitch again as she tried to contain her tears. But she couldn't help it.

Laying the cloth aside, her father moved to the bath and turned on the taps. He extracted a tiny bottle from the cupboard over the sink and poured it into the steaming water that was filling the bath.

"Lavender oil," he said to Zoe's curious expression.

He waited for the bath to fill completely, tested the water's warmth with his hand, and then turned to his daughter.

"Take a bath," he instructed, placing his hand on the top of her head and tilting it back so she was looking up at him. "It will calm you. Though, don't be long. Ollie will have dinner prepared soon."

At Zoe's nod, he moved away from her and exited, closing the bathroom door behind him and leaving her sitting on the toilet. Confused, but thinking a bath sounded like a great idea, Zoe stood, pulled a towel from another cupboard and undressed.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the warm water.

* * *

><p>Half an hour after leaving Zoe upstairs, Severus heard her bare feet softly padding down the stairs into the sitting room. She had opted for her long, summer nightgown—though it was still the afternoon—and had left her hair wet and uncombed, as usual. Severus looked up from the Potions journal he had been perusing and rolled his eyes as he pulled out his wand and non-verbally flicked it toward the stairwell. A moment later, he caught the garment he had Summoned and motioned for his daughter to come to him.<p>

"It's just me and you and Ollie here," she complained as he held out the red dressing gown for her.

"You and me and Ollie," Severus corrected. "And if you insist on wearing your bed clothes downstairs then you are at least going to wear your dressing gown, not only for warmth but decency in case someone was to stop by."

She reluctantly put it on (though she refused to tie it, as he would prefer) then she moved toward the sofa. Severus caught her by the wrist and when she looked back at him, he laid his magazine aside and pulled her to sit between his legs on the front edge of his armchair looking away from him. Conjuring a comb, he began to tackle the tangles from her long, dark hair slowly, the Muggle way. He hadn't done this in quite some time for he felt that, at eight years old, Zoe was more than capable of caring for her own hair after a bath. Not to mention, wand work for such tasks was much more efficient anyway. Currently, however, he had the inclination that his daughter needed tangible reassurance that he was not irate with her.

More than anything, he had been surprised when the tracking spell that took effect on Zoe anytime she left the boundaries of their garden had tugged at his magical core only a few minutes after she had left the cellar. He had designed it to convey to him when Zoe was in a dangerous situation but had discovered that, once activated, it also worked to inform him of when she was in emotional distress.

Feeling the pull, he had immediately vaulted up the stairs of the cellar and out into the back garden, making his way to the stone wall to look out toward the river. He never immediately went to Zoe for, as much as he wanted to help her, to end whatever was upsetting her any way that he could, he knew that Zoe had to learn to fight her own battles. Therefore he tended to stay back until he was certain she absolutely needed him or until whatever disagreement was resolved.

This time, however, he had peeked over the wall and been taken aback as he saw Zoe leap at the redheaded boy, Eric Ibsen, and begin beating the daylights out of him—a child whom Severus was well aware got a thrill from taunting those children who were different. After all, Severus himself had fallen victim to the boy's father—Walter—on more than one occasion in his youth leading up to Hogwarts. Knowing this was unlikely to end well, he pulled out his wand, disillusioned himself, and then apparated to within twenty feet of the scuffle. Once there, he removed the disillusion—giving the children the very astute feeling that he had appeared out of nowhere—and approached the scene, pulling Zoe out of the fray and intimidating the boys away.

Zoe was quiet now, uncharacteristically so. As Severus worked steadily to get the long, tangled tresses of her hair smooth, he noticed that she seemed very drawn in on herself. She looked down at her lap and sat more still than he'd ever seen her. No doubt, she was worried that she was in trouble (Severus hadn't quite decided if she was yet) and clearly, something was bothering her.

"I received an owl from Minerva a few minutes ago," he began in an effort to elicit something out of her. "She will be taking her holidays a bit earlier this summer and was curious if you would like to stay with her in Portree for a few days next week."

"Yes, please," was the response out of the girl. Severus raised a single eyebrow. No flitting about in a fit of joy? No insufferable dancing or singing? Just 'yes, please'?

"I will owl her in the morning, then."

Having combed his daughter's hair through, Severus pulled it away from her face and parted it into three sections. From there he began to braid it into a long plait down her back. This was the part in the routine when Severus couldn't help but smirk. If only his old students could see the 'greasy git of the dungeons' now. What would Longbottom think to see his most feared professor sitting calmly while delicately plaiting a little girl's hair? He'd die of shock, no doubt.

He tied the plait off at the end and then lightly pulled at his daughter's earlobe to indicate that he had finished, but Zoe didn't move away as she usually did after having to sit still for so long. Severus was about to say something to her when she broke the silence.

"Papa? Why do the Muggle kids think I'm strange?" she asked innocently, looking down at her hands.

Severus frowned. Was that what the brawl had been about?

"Did they call you strange?"

Zoe shook her head. "They called me a freak."

Severus rubbed his forehead as the sound of that word briefly warped him back to his own childhood. Children could find some very horrid things to say to each other and, apparently, the neighborhood children had changed little from when he was a boy.

Severus put some gentle pressure against his daughter's back to make her stand. When she did, she turned to face him and he took her hands in his. She had silent tears running down her cheeks. He used his thumb to wipe them away.

"You are not strange and you most certainly are not a freak," he said to her in what he hoped was a tone of consolation. "You are a witch. The Muggle children don't understand and therefore see your abilities as an oddity. It is their problem, not yours. Do not dwell on it."

"Can't I just tell them that I'm a witch, Papa?" Zoe asked in a pseudo-whine. "Then maybe they won't think I'm strange."

Severus sighed heavily. "I'm afraid that would do little to change their opinions of you. Besides, you know that is not possible. The Statute of Secrecy is in place for a reason." He paused as Zoe nodded her head in resignation. "Tell me what happened by the tree," he instructed then, pulling one of Zoe's hands so that she was now leaning against the inside of his thigh.

"Am I going to be in trouble?"

Severus smirked slightly. Always curious what she could get out of a situation while wary of any negative repercussions—his little Slytherin.

Severus shook his head.

"I suppose that depends on what it is that caused you to retaliate so violently."

"You won't like it," Zoe informed him in a small voice, looking down.

Severus frowned.

"I don't imagine I will. However, regardless of whether you'll be in trouble or not, you are going to tell me what happened. I had to use three memory charms out there and I think I deserve an explanation as to why they were necessary, don't you?"

"I suppose so," his daughter responded quietly as she pushed her fingers into the fabric on the armrest of his chair. After over a minute where his daughter said absolutely nothing, Severus delicately stilled her hand.

"Explain," he said.

Zoe took a deep breath. "It was stupid. They made fun of my clothes and said that I was a freak and told me to go away and that it was their tree. But I was there first so I told them all to sod off and then they said nobody could sit under the tree but them and I said that their names weren't written on it. Then one of them hit me and pushed me down. I don't know which one and I just got so angry, Papa, and they laughed at me and that's when I jumped on Eric."

Severus stared at his daughter, trying to take in the whole story element-by-element in order to piece together a series of events. His nearly nine years of experience in fatherhood had taught him that this was the easiest and most efficient way to decipher the often-discombobulated tales that children told. Between Zoe and his godson, Scorpius, he'd become something of a master at it.

Feeling he had the general sense of what had transpired, he gave his daughter a stern frown. "First, young lady, I don't know where you could have heard the term 'sod off', but I don't ever want to hear such inappropriate, rude language out of you again," he scolded. "A little girl with a dirty mouth will find herself very familiar with the taste of soap. Am I clear?"

Severus watched as his daughter blushed and fidgeted.

"Yes, Papa," she said meekly.

He nodded.

"Secondly, you have been told time and time again to wear your _Muggle_ clothing when you play outside the garden. We are the only magical people for miles and Muggles are unaccustomed to the fashions of the Wizarding world."

"I know. I just forgot," Zoe mumbled.

"Next time, remember." Severus took a deep breath. "Now, although I truly regret what those boys said to you, Zoe, you must learn to control yourself. The temper is highly unbecoming and how you conduct yourself when faced with provocation tells a lot about..."

Severus trailed off when he noticed Zoe wrinkle her brow. He wasn't quite sure that his attempt to convey the moral complexities of one's character would really register with his daughter. She was intelligent, but she was also only eight years old.

Of course, Severus didn't really want to scold her either, but that was the only way he could think of that would possibly make some sort of impression. In all honesty, he was actually rather relieved that the girl had only had a fit of rage and that her magic hadn't wreaked havoc on the Muggles instead—aside from her eyes, that is. That was a very intriguing talent on its own. Apparently, the change of iris color he had witnessed at Christmas over a year before hadn't been a trick of the light, after all...

That's where the memory charms had come into play. Upon briefly glimpsing into the minds of the boys using Legilimency in order to ascertain what had transpired, he had seen the image of his daughter's eyes changing from blue to red in a blink. Severus had expelled himself from one boy's brain with the impression that the boy thought she was some sort of evil demon or an alien. He had adjusted the memory more for the benefit of the boy's sanity than for the Statute of Secrecy.

Closing his eyes briefly, frustrated by the complexity of parenting, Severus found himself pulling Zoe up onto his lap. He rested his cheek upon the top of her head after he had brought her back into the crook of his arm for a moment so he could think. She smelled of the lavender he had put into her bath and she smelled like Zoe—his little girl.

He knew that she knew that what she had done wasn't right, that solving issues with your fists was neither acceptable nor decent, but he was also well aware that those boys had come looking for a fight. Perhaps they had even come hoping that Zoe would exhibit another display of "freakishness" that they could regale to their other friends later. Severus had put an end to that with the memory charms, of course.

He also understood his daughter's anger wholeheartedly. He, too, had been on the receiving end of a bully's taunts on more than one occasion as a child—first in this dirty, old town and then later at Hogwarts. He knew the frustration that built up, the sense of helplessness that threatened to take over until the sudden, unbearable urge to fight back pushed forth, but was then squashed by the overwhelming fear of further retribution. It was this that had typically caused him to internalize his struggles rather than retaliate. Zoe, apparently, had inherited little of that fear.

As a young child, he'd had nobody to defend him—not until Lily and her even-tempered, kind personality came along—for his parents had always seemed to turn a blind eye to Severus's troubles, even when he'd come home bruised, crying, and sometimes even bloody. By the time he was Zoe's age, he'd stopped trying to bring it to their attention entirely. By then, he'd become a loner, avoiding contact with almost everyone he encountered. It wasn't until he'd started to watch the little, auburn-haired girl manipulating blooming flowers and launching herself from swings in a fit of giggles that he realized he wasn't alone in this town and, once he befriended Lily, everything started to look up. She was the one that had encouraged him to stand up to bullies, had wanted him to fight back.

But Zoe didn't have any friends like that, not from what Severus had observed anyway. There were children that tolerated her, of course, for she was an amiable little girl, but they feared receiving the same taunts that his daughter had to endure and were not keen to spend long periods of time in the presence of anyone who was too different. It pained him that such a sweet girl was left out because of her "oddity" and a sudden sense of guilt overcame him as he wondered why he had chosen to stay in this horrid, Muggle town when, in reality, he could have chosen any place steeped in magic.

_You didn't want to be bothered, remember?_

Severus mentally shook himself. He was getting off-topic in his own mind and needed to stick to the facts in this situation. Yes, those boys had started it, but Zoe also knew it was wrong for they had just had a conversation not half an hour before regarding brawling. And, though she may not have had any friends to confide in, Severus was far from an apathetic father. Did Zoe know that? Surely she must for he'd come to her aid, healed her wounds.

His mind a bit clearer, he repositioned her so that he could look at her properly.

"Zoe," he began firmly, but not harshly. "Just because the boys said something horrid to you, doesn't mean that you can punch and hit and generally attack them—you know this. Brawling is not the proper, respectable way to settle a disagreement. We had this discussion earlier today."

"But, Papa, I was so angry. And… he hit me first."

_True_. _The boy had, indeed, started the physical aspect of their altercation._

Severus shook his head. He'd have a discussion with her about self-defense tomorrow, perhaps, after she'd had a chance to think on this lesson first and once he'd had sufficient time to think how he wanted to approach bullying defense with her. Overall, he wanted violence to be the absolute last thing his daughter thought to turn to in these instances.

"I am aware, but from now on, I want you to walk away and come to me if someone says something that you don't like. We will talk it through. We'll discuss self-defense at a later time. Do you understand?"

Zoe nodded her head, but that wouldn't do.

"Zoe…" he said with an edge of warning in his voice.

"Yes, Papa. I will."

Severus nodded his own head just as Ollie walked into the room and announced that dinner was waiting in the kitchen.

"Thank you, Ollie, we shall be in momentarily," Severus said before leveling Zoe with his best stern father look. "I think after dinner you could benefit from a bit of quiet time in the study."

Zoe's shoulders slumped as a pained expression took over her features.

"No, Papa, please. I won't ever do it again, I promise," she whined.

Severus wasn't surprised. If there was one thing Zoe couldn't stand, it was sitting quietly by herself. After all, "quiet time" was merely what she preferred he call it since, at the advanced age of eight, she felt that she was much too old for "time out". Both, however, involved her sitting silently on a chair facing the wall of his study and thinking about her behavior. He also understood why she was reluctant for such a punishment now when she had already spent nearly two hours on restriction in her bedroom earlier in the afternoon for her display at Malfoy Manor and been assigned two extra chores—one for brewing the potion and one for disobeying him about the ploys against Scorpius.

Severus shook his head again. He could not allow himself to be swayed by her pleas. She had been a right terror that day and had earned all her punishments legitimately.

"Yes, you are going to sit for ten minutes for this second brawl while I write to Mr. Constantine at the apothecary. I would say that's more than fair considering your atrocious behavior today."

Zoe wrinkled her nose and looked generally displeased but she didn't complain further as she slid off Severus's lap and headed toward the kitchen, her shoulders slightly hunched.

* * *

><p>Severus was pleased that it had taken less than the normal amount of effort on his part to get Zoe to adhere to her prescribed discipline after dinner. She'd had a bit of an attitude about it, but only one threat to add five minutes to her punishment if she didn't sit herself down in that chair post-haste and she had reluctantly acquiesced and turned to the wall. Severus had waved his wand to the magical hourglass on his desk, setting it for ten minutes, and then proceeded to his desk to begin his letter to Aldous Constantine in Diagon Alley.<p>

Zoe was quiet-as was expected of her—but, customarily when they sat through a punishment like this, Severus couldn't help but glance to his daughter's back often in order to be sure that she was following to the letter. At the moment, she sat hunched in her chair with her arms folded over her chest, sulking.

"Sit straight, Zoe," he admonished. She huffed but quickly obeyed and Severus went back to his letter.

This was always how it started. It was that damned attitude. Eventually, she would unfold herself and pick at the wood on the chair, fiddle with her robes, or rub her foot along the baseboard of the wall in boredom as she waited for her sentence to end. It was at this stage that the melodramatic sighing would start and Severus would roll his eyes. The girl always acted as if this was the worst punishment in the world and this didn't help with the impression that the minutes were only barely dragging by—not just for Zoe, but for Severus as well.

Severus looked down to the hourglass. By his estimations of the swirling sand, they were already five minutes in and good thing too. Zoe was now progressing to the stage where she became increasingly restless and chanced glances over her shoulder toward him and the hourglass when she thought he wasn't looking.

"Eyes on the wall, young lady," he calmly reprimanded, still focused on his letter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his daughter quickly spin away from him.

As she did so, she let out a great puff of air—frustrated with her punishment and the fact that she had been caught turned around—and kicked the wall petulantly in her temper. Severus raised his head sharply and addressed the back of hers.

"Zoe Ophelia Elizabeth. Do that again and I'll smack your behind," he stated harshly and immediately regretted it. He closed his eyes—more of a wince, really. He'd snapped again.

Typically, he was rather in opposition to corporal correction, for he thought it to be utterly ineffective in the long-term and a disrespectful form of discipline overall, but there were times when there just didn't seem to be enough patience in the world. Sometimes, he found himself threatening her or otherwise abandoning that particular parenting principle in favor of the swiftest rebuke to the girl's oft-trying contrariness; though, he hardly wanted to swat his child—even as a last resort. Most especially here because her offense had been exceptionally mild and his temper was only a reflection of a day's worth of frustration and over-taxed patience than any real disapproval of her actions.

At her lack of response, Severus shook his head and went back to his writing. Why, of all days, had his daughter decided to push him so? Was she simply trying to stretch her boundaries or, perhaps, testing his tolerance? She was most certainly wearing on what little patience he possessed and his impulsive threat a moment ago proved it.

Severus had only just picked up where he had left off when he heard a sniffle and the all-too-familiar strain of a child's voice as she tried to stifle the sounds of crying. He looked up at Zoe. She had her face turned away from him, of course, but he could see her shoulders trembling and her hand coming up to swipe at tears.

There were days when Severus wondered if it would have been easier to raise a little boy for, sometimes, this girl's emotional fluctuations all but wreaked havoc on his good sanity. It had just turned into one of those days. After all, just a moment ago, she was all attitude and temper and now she was openly weeping. He hadn't even shouted at her.

But what was it now? Had he spoken too forcefully? He shook his head.

_Don't be daft; of course, you did. And now, you've gone and threatened her with a smack that you have no intention of giving her._

Severus considered the fact that, despite this being the only time he'd actually threatened her with a smacking for the day's events, it was the second time it had entered into his mind to do so—and she didn't know that he didn't plan to follow through with such an action.

He had threatened to hex her, however, and on top of the other punishments and admonishments that she had received for her various misbehaviors, he imagined that she probably thought she had truly crossed the line this time.

It was just another indication that this had not been the best of days for him or his daughter.

He rubbed his forehead. He felt very tired all of a sudden.

Sighing heavily and internally chastising himself for his quick fuse, Severus closed his eyes briefly and inhaled a deep breath. He laid his quill down. "Come here, Zoe," he called quietly.

She didn't turn around, but vigorously shook her head.

"No. I'll s-sit qu-qu-quietly, Papa," she said through hiccups.

"You are not in trouble," Severus reassured, understanding her trepidation. "Come here."

There was a pause on the child's part before she slowly slid from her chair and shuffled over to him. Severus pushed his chair away from his desk and when Zoe was in proximity, he pulled her up to sit on his lap. He positioned her in the crook of his right arm—as he had earlier—and tugged the edges of her nightgown down to cover her legs more completely.

Zoe went limp on her father's lap and started to cry even more than before. Knowing not what had caused such an emotional upheaval in his child, Severus merely let her cry, as he pulled his arm around her. From time to time, he would softly shush into her ear or lightly pat the side of her thigh, trying to comfort her. It was several minutes before Zoe calmed enough that he felt like he could have a conversation with her.

"Come now, what is this about?" he asked.

Zoe shook her head. "Nothing," she said, sniffling.

Severus gazed down at his daughter's dark head. She raised her arm to swipe it across her face, but he stalled her, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket and holding it to her nose.

"Blow."

The girl complied and as soon as he had wiped most of the snot and tears from her face, he wandlessly banished the cloth to the laundry.

They didn't talk, not for a long while. Severus just held his daughter and rocked back and forth in his chair. He had come to understand that, even though Zoe had said it was nothing, eventually she might be forthcoming with what was bothering her. For a moment there, he had assumed it was something he had done, but the girl was allowing him to hold her and dry her tears so perhaps it was something else. Perhaps Scorpius had done or said something earlier in the day that was only now catching up to Zoe emotionally.

Any of these could be true, but Severus was starting to imagine that the real culprit behind her despicable behavior, the temper earlier, and the weeping now was simple fatigue. She had grown out of scheduled afternoon naps, of course, but Zoe could sometimes be quite the bear in the evenings if she had had a long day or if she didn't sleep enough the night before—even if she had never been quite this unruly when that had been the case in the past… He supposed he could chalk that up to her getting older and therefore more daring when it came to misbehavior.

Zoe was beginning to calm and Severus's suspicions were proven when he looked down to see her eyes fluttering as she tried to stay alert. She was clearly losing that battle. He glanced briefly to the clock on a nearby bookcase. It was over an hour to bedtime, but that wasn't entirely ridiculous, therefore Severus stood with Zoe in his arms and slowly strolled from the room.

It wasn't until he had set her on her feet beside her bed and proceeded to remove her dressing gown from her arms that Zoe stirred enough to realize what was going on.

"I don't want to go to bed early, Papa. I already had restriction and quiet time today," she whined.

"You aren't going to bed early as punishment. It is obvious that you are exhausted. I hardly think that an extra hour or two of sleep will adversely affect you," said Severus, pulling back her quilt and the sheet beneath. He raised his eyebrows in surprise when his daughter actually crawled under her blankets without further prompting.

"I'm not..." Zoe yawned. "…sleepy."

"Clearly," Severus said dryly. He tucked her in and placed his hand on her forehead, just to be sure.

No fever. Good.

Zoe was already dropping off and Severus brushed his hand against her cheek affectionately and then left the attic to complete and post his letter hoping that tomorrow would be a better day—for the both of them.


	4. Better Days

**_Okay, everyone. Here is the final chapter. It's not a lot of action, but more of a days-in-the-lives-type chapter. I hope you have enjoyed this story and please, leave a review._**

* * *

><p><strong>A Very Long Day<strong>

**Chapter 4: Better Days**

"Papa?"

Severus awoke instantly to the soft, timid voice of his daughter. When he opened his eyes, he saw her standing next to his bed, wringing the fabric of her nightgown in her hands as she gazed at him with worry and fear in her voice. He sat up, grabbing for his wand on the table beside the bed. With a wave, he sent a slight illumination to the oil lamp.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I had a bad dream. Can I sleep in here with you?"

She didn't wait for a reply as she clambered over his blanketed legs to take up residence at his side. She tugged at the duvet underneath her and, once she'd freed it from beneath her own bottom, she pulled it up over herself and snuggled into him, laying her head against his chest.

Severus raised his eyebrows at her audacity, but didn't comment on it as he looped his arm around her thin frame and leaned back into the pillows. He also bit back a colorful curse when her icy feet came up to rest against the side of his thigh. How her toes could lose every ounce of heat in the middle of the summer was beyond him. Perhaps he needed to start mixing a blood-circulation elixir into her morning porridge.

"Well?" he asked. "What was this dream?"

Zoe shrugged. "It was scary. You were in it, but I couldn't see your face. I just felt you there, but you couldn't help me. And Minerva was there too, but she couldn't help me either."

"Help you?"

"Yeah, I was running away, but I wasn't going anywhere. Neither of you could help me."

"What were you running from?"

"I don't remember now. I just know I was scared."

Severus didn't respond to that. It seemed like a typical nightmare, really. Zoe didn't have them often and, usually by the time she regaled the dream to him, she couldn't remember what had scared her in the first place.

When she had quieted, he nonverbally cast a Tempus Charm into the air. The time 23:56 was illuminated in faint, yellow numerals above the bed. Severus's eyes widened in exasperation. Merlin, was it too much to ask that this day merely end?

He looked down at Zoe. She had her eyes closed and her breathing was becoming slower. Severus raised a single eyebrow, for it hadn't taken much to get her back to contentedness again.

"Are you ready to go back to bed now?" he asked quietly, knowing the eight-year-old was not quite asleep just yet.

"No," she protested sleepily, but quite emphatically, drawing the word out for a few seconds, as she turned her face to bury it in the fabric of his nightshirt. Severus couldn't help but roll his eyes at her melodramatic tactics.

"You are getting too old to sleep with me when you have a nightmare," he said quietly, his tone informative, rather than scolding. He moved a bit of her hair away from her face and looked down on her. "Hmm?"

"I was scared, Papa," Zoe stated again, her words nearly slurred with fatigue.

Severus sat there for several minutes after that, not really thinking about much, simply waiting for Zoe to fall fully out of consciousness.

Once she had, he pulled the covers away from both their legs and slid toward the edge of the bed, holding Zoe close to him. Delicately, he heaved the little girl up into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder as her arms hung limply at her sides. He rose in order to take her back to her bed.

In the attic, he carefully eased her down onto her own mattress, making sure not to disturb her slumber. This was a movement that he had practiced and finessed over the years—gotten down to an exact science, almost—as only the father of a young child could have.

He cast another Tempus into the air.

24:12.

Satisfied that the day was finally over, he quietly made his way back to his own bedroom, hopeful for a new—less trying—day.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Zoe awoke refreshed, though slightly perturbed that her father had brought her back up to her own bed after her nightmare. Thinking back on the events of the day before, she shook her head. Everything seemed silly now: the fights with Scorpius and the Muggle boys, working herself up and crying all because her father had threatened to give her a smack for kicking the wall. Silly…and kind of babyish.<p>

She dressed in a lightweight skirt and t-shirt for the day. Smoothing her skirt down, she slipped into a pair of ballet flats as well as a wizard's robe, which she left open, and crossed to her chest of drawers. She looked at herself in the mirror above it for a moment before reaching for her hairbrush and pulling the tie from the end of the plait her father had put her hair into the night before.

As she brushed through the long, wavy tresses, she suddenly became worried. Was her father angry with her? Annoyed, maybe? She hadn't finished her allotted quiet time the night before. Would he make her sit the remaining minutes this morning? Zoe supposed she could understand if he said she had to, though she hardly wanted to. Quiet time, like restriction, was very boring.

When she had finished untangling her hair, she took a glance out her window and Zoe wondered if her father would even be awake this early. She _had_ roused him in the middle of the night, after all. However, he was normally up with the sun, it seemed, but maybe she could sneak downstairs, solicit Ollie for some toast, and be outside playing for a while before he rose and could impose the previous evening's punishment on her.

Or maybe he would just forget about it.

Resolved, Zoe walked as quietly as possible down the attic stairs and silently closed the door, sealing it off from the first floor landing. She tiptoed down the corridor to the door to her father's bedroom and opened it a crack to peek inside. Her shoulders slumped. He had already vacated the room and that meant that she would encounter him at breakfast.

Sighing heavily, Zoe steeled herself for more lecturing on her behavior and a day devoted to paying for it as she solemnly descended the stairs to the ground level.

Zoe peeked around the doorway into the kitchen and saw her father sitting in his normal chair, sipping coffee and perusing _The_ _Daily_ _Prophet_. She supposed she should get this over with but, before she could properly prepare herself to fully enter into the kitchen, she heard her father speak.

"Zoe, do stop lingering in the doorway. It's rude. Come have your breakfast."

Zoe met her father's gaze. His voice had been firm, but the eyes below his arched eyebrows danced with something akin to amusement at her antics. How did he do that? He didn't seem to have noticed her from behind the newspaper a moment ago, but apparently, he had.

"Yes, Papa," she said obediently and crossed the short space to sit across from her father at the table. He pushed a bowl of dry cereal toward her and poured her a glass of milk. Zoe took a sip of the cool milk before pouring it onto the cereal and tucking in.

"Did you sleep well after your dream?" her father suddenly asked, looking across the table at her with the tiniest glimmer of concern on his relatively impassive face.

Zoe nodded slightly as she grabbed for a piece of toast. "Yes."

"Thank Merlin," he responded melodramatically. "I don't know that I have the stamina to endure another day of insufferable eight-year-old attitude and dramatics."

Then he raised the _Prophet_ back up to resume reading. Zoe wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at the paper that shielded her father's view of her.

"Put your tongue back in your mouth, young lady, before I use it in a potion," he reprimanded evenly.

Zoe did just that as her eyes widened. Seriously, how did he do that?

"There aren't any potions that have peoples' tongues in them," Zoe defended moodily.

"Oh? One failed brew and suddenly you're a potions scholar? Perhaps you'd like to test that theory?" her father challenged from behind the newspaper.

Zoe wrinkled her nose again, but remained quiet.

"I didn't think so."

Zoe took another bite of her cereal and fidgeted.

"Papa," she started apprehensively, "do I have to finish my quiet time from last night?"

Her father put the paper aside, watched her for a moment, and then shook his head.

"I don't think that will be necessary. Do you?"

Zoe shook her head ardently, inwardly sighing with relief. Her father raised his mug to his lips and finished off his coffee.

"Then…is it okay if I play outside after breakfast?"

Putting the mug back onto the table, he leveled her with a stern look this time.

"Have you already forgotten that you have two separate punishments to fulfill today in addition to your lessons?"

Zoe's shoulders slumped and she slouched into her chair, looking down into her lap and pouting a bit. No, she hadn't forgotten and it was silly of her to have even hoped that her father had. After a few moments, he sighed heavily.

"Perhaps you may spend some time in the garden late this afternoon. But it depends solely on how well you do on your geography quiz and how many times I must tell you to stop fidgeting, daydreaming, and etching daisies onto your parchment."

Zoe groaned. A quiz on Sunday? On top of her punishments? This really wasn't fair.

"I'm rather wary of allowing you out of our garden at the moment, however," her father continued. "I think it best that you stay near the house until I have had a chance to speak with your tormenters' respective parents."

Zoe paled, her eyes whipping up to meet her father's. "No! Don't do that! I'll never be able to play by the river again!"

Her father wrinkled his brow. "Why is that?"

Zoe looked into her cereal. "All the other kids will think I'm a dirty snitch."

She heard a scoff.

"You can hardly be a 'dirty snitch' when I saw the fight with my own eyes. There was no instance of tattling. Not to mention the certainty that that boy showed up at home with all the evidence of the brawl on his face," her father said logically.

"I know, but… Please don't go to their parents, Papa," Zoe said quietly, looking back up to her father, trying to plead to him with her eyes.

Her father raised a single eyebrow and considered her for several moments. Finally, he began smoothing the lines of the newspaper with one hand, averting his eyes from her. Zoe sat quietly, waiting for her father's response to her request.

"You're certain my saying something will only cause further retaliation from the neighborhood children?"

Zoe nodded and her father sighed.

"Very well, I will refrain from mentioning it—for now." He narrowed his eyes sternly. "But if another incident comes to my attention where you've been surrounded, teased and ultimately forced to defend yourself, I will not stay quiet. Is that clear?"

Zoe nodded again.

"All right," her father said as he stood from the table. "We'll be starting with geography this morning, then work through some English and maths before rounding out the day with Latin just before lunch. I hope to see an improvement in your pronunciation since Thursday. Finish your breakfast and meet me in the study with your books. Ten minutes."

Then he left Zoe sitting at the table by herself, pouting. She hated having weekend lessons—especially in the summer. Though she was grateful that her father had decided not to talk to Eric and Ivan's parents, Zoe couldn't help but feel like she was still in trouble from the day before.

No longer feeling remotely hungry, Zoe sighed and got up from her chair. She took her half-eaten bowl of cereal to the sink and then proceeded back up the stairs to gather her school things.

* * *

><p>Zoe had been sitting at her little student desk on the far side of her father's cramped study for the better part of the morning as he'd stood at the small blackboard attached to the wall, making her identify parts of speech in long paragraphs and drilling her on all the countries and capitals of Africa. She hadn't had any difficulties and she was fairly certain that she had received full marks on her quiz. It was when they'd gotten into maths that the focus drained from Zoe's eyes and her mind started to wander.<p>

Zoe did not enjoy maths and she had absolutely no qualms about letting her father know it. Because of this general disinterest in the subject, she had always found it the most difficult to study or even to pay attention when her father lectured her in it. It wasn't that she wasn't any good at it, for she rarely got low marks, even when the work truly challenged her, but something about maths was just so…boring; so very many of the same, dull concepts were simply graduated to be harder to work through.

Zoe's father didn't seem to care much for the subject either for, when he was teaching her, his voice became much more monotonous and his overall demeanor smacked of displeasure and weariness. It didn't keep him from being adamant that she approach maths with the same fervor that she did her other subjects, however. That day alone, he'd scolded her twice for not paying attention before a single threat to double her algebra assignment had yielded the desired effect of making her a rapt and studious pupil.

Twenty minutes later, however, they'd moved on to Latin and, once again, Zoe had found it difficult to focus.

"_An absentis mens mos non hereditas scientia_."

Zoe gazed wistfully out the study window trying to decide whether the cloud moving slowly across the fine, blue sky looked more like a hippogriff or a sphinx.

Suddenly, a loud _bang_ interrupted her daydream and caused her to jump as her composition book slammed down onto the Latin textbook in front of her, effectively gaining her attention. Zoe looked up into the blazing eyes of her father.

"A translation, if you please," he insisted.

Zoe could instantly feel her cheeks flushing as her eyes hurriedly searched the blackboard in case her father had written the phrase down, but the algebra expressions from before were still up there. Her eyes met her father's then for a moment and she knew she was caught. She quickly averted her gaze to her lap.

"I wasn't listening," she mumbled quietly.

"I am quite aware," her father said in a disapproving tone. He reached down to the parchment where Zoe had been writing down the Latin vocabulary for the day only to frown at the scant notes upon it. He shook his head and sighed heavily as he handed it back to her. "Lessons are over for the day. You are obviously too preoccupied to imbibe anything more into your brain at the moment. Go wash up for lunch. We'll eat in the conservatory where, immediately upon finishing your meal, you will begin on your punishment task from yesterday."

"Yes, Papa," Zoe said obediently as she rose from her desk to make her way out of the study.

Zoe knew her father was far from pleased with her short attention span, but she didn't feel like she could help it. It was such a beautiful day outside, after all, and she wanted to enjoy it. Instead, she was stuck inside having lessons and being forced to do chores. It wasn't fair.

_You got in trouble, remember?_ _Punishments aren't supposed to be fun,_ she scolded herself.

_Yeah, yeah,_ she countered, hating that stupid little voice in the back of her head that always seemed to have the logical answer to things. For some reason it also sounded vaguely like her father.

If she was honest with herself, she knew she deserved her punishments and, really, they weren't all _that_ bad. She _had_ blown up her bedroom, after all, and she had been fully conscious of the possible ramifications of stealing from her father's stores. She also supposed there was so much more he could have done to punish her and yet, he'd only told her that she was going to prune plants for an hour or two. She knew she shouldn't complain.

Entering into the little conservatory a few minutes later, she saw that Ollie had conjured up a little café table and two chairs in the corner, just inside and to the right of the door. There was no food yet, but the table had been set and a clear pitcher of water was situated between the two place settings. Her father had yet to arrive, so Zoe sat down in the chair nearest her and pulled the pitcher toward her to pour herself a glass of water. She sipped it slowly and waited.

Soon, her father swept past, his robes billowing a bit as he turned abruptly and took a seat opposite her. He too helped himself to some water just as Ollie popped in to serve them their lunch.

"Is Mister Severus or Miss Zoe needings anything else?" the house elf asked, after placing the food on the table. She looked between the father and daughter.

"No, Ollie," Zoe's father said, laying his napkin into his lap. "We are more than content. Thank you."

Ollie nodded. "Ollie will sees to Miss Zoe's unmade bed, then," she said, popping out of the conservatory and leaving Zoe to face her father's stern, disapproving frown.

Zoe cringed.

"You did not make it up before you came downstairs this morning?"

"No," Zoe said in a small voice, pushing her carrots around her plate with her fork.

"You know very well that making your bed is one of your daily chores," he scolded.

"But I don't _like_ doing it and Ollie _loves_ it," Zoe stated in her own defense.

Her father's frown did nothing but deepen. "_That_ is hardly the point. You are old enough to be accountable for making your own bed. I hardly think that is too difficult a task for a girl of eight."

"But Ollie makes up _your_ bed."

Zoe knew immediately that she had said the wrong thing. Her father's eyes blazed as his knife and fork came down hard on his plate. She quieted, averting her eyes away.

"By all means, persist with your cheeky back talk; for you are about to find out exactly where it is leading you."

He paused and closed his eyes briefly. He heaved in a breath. "Just because Ollie _likes_ to do it, does not give you the right to take advantage of her. You are more than capable of doing the task yourself. As for Ollie making up _my_ bed: I provide for this household and she does it as a favor to me so that I may continue to do so."

Zoe pouted down at her plate. She understood that, but it was still unfair that he scolded her for not doing it when he didn't even make up his bed in the mornings. It was… what was that word? Hippocranial. Was that right? That didn't seem right… Besides, he could do magic if he wanted to.

"I have asked Ollie to refrain from making your bed in order to teach you some responsibility," her father continued his lecture after sipping his water again. "You _will_ do it tomorrow morning. And don't think that I won't confirm with Ollie that you did."

"Yes, Papa," Zoe said.

They were silent for several minutes as they simply ate. Zoe was playing with her food a bit, but her father didn't comment on it. She could feel his eyes on her, however, but she didn't look up at him.

"How would you feel about tackling the Pepperup Potion today after you've finished in here _and_ after you've washed a healthy supply of vials in the laboratory?"

Zoe's eyes whipped up to meet her father's immediately.

"That is, if you aren't averse to giving up the remainder of your afternoon?"

"You mean you'll help me brew it today?"

"Is that not what I just said?"

Zoe couldn't help the smile that erupted on her face. All thoughts of spending the day outside on such a beautiful day had vanished from her mind completely. "Yes! I don't mind giving up my afternoon at all!"

Her father inclined his head. "Very well. We will brew. Now, for Merlin's sake, stop playing with your food and eat it."

Zoe grinned and obeyed.

* * *

><p>Once they had finished their lunch, Severus had immediately set Zoe to the task of pruning some simple peppermint while he tackled his most volatile plant—his lone Venomous Tentacula which was desperately in need of some attention. It required pruning and seed harvesting.<p>

He hadn't been at it long when he noticed that his daughter was much more intrigued by his work than her own, however. It had started as only furtive glances in his direction, a curious expression upon her face, as Severus maneuvered himself around the caustic plant, snipping off dead leaves and mature ones alike. From time to time, he would step away from the flora's grasp and glance to Zoe whose eyes would grow wide at being caught not keeping to her assignment before she rushed to look busy. She had done a fine enough job of her work after nearly an hour that Severus had called her to him.

"I need your help with something," he had said, watching as Zoe's eyes alit with excitement at having been asked. "Do you think you can manage to feed the Tentacula—distract it—while I harvest its seeds?"

Zoe nodded exuberantly . "Yes, I can."

"This is a venomous and very dangerous plant, Zoe," he cautioned, "so I don't want you to jump in without knowing the risks."

"I understand," she said, a look of resolve on her face. "What do I do?"

Severus turned and grabbed for a tin of thumb-sized, brown pellets beside the planter box, before turning back to hand them down to his daughter.

"I would like for you to focus the Tentacula's attention to that side, while I dislodge the seed pods from this side. All you need to do is continue to feed it the pellets. Be very careful."

His daughter nodded her head in understanding and extracted a food pellet from the tin. She moved toward the side opposite of him and held the pellet out at arm's length for the plant. Severus watched as the Tentacula instantly shifted its attention from him—the larger of its adversaries—to the smaller one with the treats.

Zoe inched closer slowly when suddenly the plant reached out a thick tentacle and plucked the pellet from Zoe's hand, pulling it into the tangle of branches and out of sight. The girl had shrieked in surprise at the abrupt movement, but her eyes found his immediately after and Severus saw every bit of the exhilaration in the blue orbs. He smirked and set himself to his respective task.

He had only managed to secure six seed pods when he heard a loud hiss escape through the clenched teeth of his daughter. He paused in his work and looked at Zoe. She immediately took a step back from the planting box, clutching the index finger of her right hand in her left. She stared at it intently as a small trickle of blood began to seep from the wound. Then she walked around in a large arch away from the plant and approached Severus.

"It bit me," she stated, a silent implore in her eyes for him to heal it quickly.

Severus took her hand in his and brought it up to examine it. Nodding in concession that the Tentacula had, indeed, cut her, he maneuvered Zoe toward the two chairs where they had shared their lunch. He sat down while Zoe stood, but inched close to him, pushing her finger toward him in earnest, a slight sheen of tears in her eyes.

"You mustn't tease it," Severus said, making an educated assumption as to how this had happened. He took her hand in his, holding onto just her finger. His wand slipped from his sleeve into his hand. "Tentaculas are not the most thick-skinned of magical plants."

He placed the tip of his wand against the pad of her finger. "_Vulnera_ _Sanentur_," he incanted and her finger glowed blue for a moment before fading, healed.

"It kept swiping at me while I was trying to get another pellet out of the tin, so I held the food away from it," she explained. "It isn't very patient."

"No. Patience is not a virtue of Tentaculas… nor eight-year-old girls," he teased, raising a single eyebrow at his daughter. Zoe frowned at him as he raised his wand and summoned a vial from a small cupboard opposite him.

"How do I feed it if it won't wait for me to get the food out of the tin?" Zoe asked, paying little attention to the vial that had come to hover between them.

"You must be quick," Severus said resolutely, dropping her mended finger and reaching for the potion he had summoned and pulled out the stopper.

Zoe scowled as she brought her finger up to examine his healing of it.

"It still stings a bit," she said, looking into his eyes.

Severus reached out and took his daughter's finger once more. He brought it up to his lips to peck a quick kiss to it.

"It won't in a moment," he said. "Here, drink half of this. It's the antivenin."

Zoe didn't ask any questions as she took the small vial and sipped it until it was only half-full before handing it back to him. Severus replaced the cork to it and rose from his chair to replace the vial to the cupboard.

"It is unlikely that you will, but you must tell me if you begin to feel faint."

"I will," Zoe said.

Severus nodded once and walked back to her to guide her back toward the planter box. "Come. Only a few more pods, I think."

* * *

><p>A couple hours later, Zoe found herself standing on a small stool at the workbench next to her father in the cellar. True to his word, he had helped her to brew the Pepperup Potion again. Of course, they hadn't just gotten to it. Zoe had had to wash what felt like hundreds of vials, beakers and various stirring tools first.<p>

After they had finished the potion, he had made her walk through her original process and try to determine what it was that had caused her blunder in the first place.

Opening the singed potions book to the correct page, her father asked her to tell him exactly how she had gone about brewing the Pepperup the first time. He had nodded and listened and, in the end, he told her that she had in fact done everything correctly up to the point of the explosion.

"So, what made it explode, then?" Zoe asked curiously.

"Though some potions are effective even if brewed with incorrect measurements or some other imprecision, there are many that require perfect preparation," her father explained as he ladled the potion into individual vials to be used for their own, household stores. "Pepperup Potion is one of the latter. Not only does it call for exactness in the way you prepare the ingredients and stir it, it also needs an ideal environment in which to be brewed."

He leveled her with such a stern gaze that Zoe couldn't help but fidget.

"Do you know where you went wrong now?" he asked.

"It was my bedroom, wasn't it?" she asked, grimacing.

Her father nodded. "There is a reason why my laboratory is in the cellar and why the potions classroom is in the dungeons at Hogwarts—why every Potions Master is tested in their proficiency with cooling charms. The temperature underground is more easily controlled than a stuffy attic bedroom. Therefore, though your Pepperup may have been the correct color and consistency when you were ready to add the habanero seed, your cauldron was much too hot. Can you think why?"

Zoe thought for a moment, wrinkling her forehead in concentration. She tried to think back to that day, to the way the room was arranged, to how she had set up her workspace on her desk. She remembered setting everything out perfectly as she had seen her father do before and she remembered the warmth of the early June sun through the window adding to the sweat that had formed on her brow. She looked up to her father who was watching her think.

"My desk is right next to the window and the sun was coming in."

She thought she saw a gleam of something in her father's eyes for a moment—something like pride—but when he spoke, he was as serious as ever.

"Yes," he said. "There is no doubt that the sunlight added to the heat of the cauldron. When you added that catalyst ingredient, the entire brew was much too unstable to handle it and that is why it blew up."

"I understand," Zoe said.

"Good." Her father nodded, as he pulled the potions text toward her. "Now, we have some time before dinner. What would you like to brew next?"

"I can choose any of these?" Zoe asked, looking up into her father's face with excitement.

"I think it would be prudent to begin with more rudimentary potions so that you may begin to understand the fundamentals of brewing."

Zoe's shoulders slumped, slightly crestfallen.

"So we can't do the Blood Replenisher? Or the Draught of Living Death?"

Her father smirked. "Zoe, you must crawl before you can run. How about this coughing solution?"

"I suppose so." She looked down at the list of ingredients. "Beetle eyes! Is this the same potion you give me when I'm coughing?"

"One in the same."

"Gross."

Zoe may have wrinkled her nose at the idea of some of the ingredients, but the truth was that she thoroughly enjoyed getting her hands goopy with animal intestines and plant slime. It was almost like playing in the mud, except that it smelled worse and her father actually allowed it. After she had gotten her robes a bit dirty from the various ingredients, her father had shrunk an old set of his work robes down into a black smock for her to wear over her clothing for when they brewed. Zoe had been ecstatic about this and inwardly hoped that her and her father would have many more opportunities to brew together in the future.

After the coughing solution had been finished and bottled (though, it was a bit darker in color than the book and her father said it should be) Zoe and her father sat down to a quiet dinner before making their way to the study upstairs where he would do some work. During this time, Zoe was expected to spend some time studying the lessons they had gone over that day.

A few minutes before Zoe knew her father would send her to bathe before bed, he called her to him at his desk, backing his chair away so that she could stand fully in front of him. Zoe watched with a bit of confusion as her father waved his wand to make the light of the lamp behind him a bit brighter and then held her face in both of his hands, looking into her eyes.

"Are you aware that during moments of strong emotion, your eye color changes?" he asked, continuing to examine her face.

Zoe could feel her eyes widen at the question, but she was so flabbergasted that she didn't respond.

"I'll take that as a 'no', then."

"Th-they change colors?" she asked, finding her voice.

"Yes, I've noticed it twice now. Yesterday, when you were wailing on Mr. Ibsen, your eyes were literally red with fury. The first time I noticed was at Malfoy Manor over a year ago when they appeared to be merely a lighter shade than your royal blue. At the time, I thought it simply a trick of the light. After yesterday, however, it is much more apparent that you have the ability to change them."

"But how do they change color?" Zoe asked.

"I'm uncertain," her father said, taking his hands away from her face. "I would be interested to see if it is merely a physical indication of your emotions or if you have some level of control over them."

"How are we going to do that?"

Her father arched a single eyebrow at her. "With a bit of testing, I imagine. Close your eyes."

Zoe wrinkled her brow. "But you won't be able to see them if I do."

Her father frowned at her in annoyance. "Do as you're told," he said. "I promise you, there is a method to this madness."

Zoe sighed, but closed her eyes. Soon, her father began to talk to her quietly.

"I want you to imagine your favorite color—"

"Pink."

"There's no need to say it alou— Since when do you like pink?" her father's tone seemed somewhat surprised and wholly disapproving of her choice.

Zoe merely shrugged and, though she couldn't see his face, she imagined him rolling his eyes before he sighed in concession.

"Very well. Envision your favorite color in your mind's eye," he continued. "Think of it as the color of every object you possess…"

"Can I really paint my bed pink, Papa?" Zoe asked excitedly, opening her eyes to look at him.

Her father frowned. "Absolutely not. I said _imagine_ it. Now, close your eyes and concentrate."

Zoe allowed her shoulders to sag in disappointment but she did as he said and tried to imagine all the things that she owned being pink. She thought about all the walls of their little home on Spinner's End and every single piece of furniture; imagined the books in the study and the sitting room being varying shades of the color.

"Let the color surround you; incorporate it into your clothing," her father whispered.

That was easy to imagine, for Zoe owned a pale pink dress that she'd worn for Easter this year and she just imagined herself wearing it. Then a crazy thought popped into her head and she envisioned her father in all his black, billowing glory and replaced his dark robes with pink as pale as her Easter dress. She giggled.

"Are you concentrating?" her father asked sternly.

Zoe nodded. "Yes. I promise."

Then she imagined her and her father standing side by side in their pink clothing and, quickly, she replaced their pale skin and dark hair with pink as well and thought about them sitting in their pink sitting room having a rather silly conversation about how utterly absurd every other color was in comparison to the glorious hue that was pink.

"Open your eyes," she heard her father say softly, pulling her from her imagination.

Zoe did so, staring at her father, trying to gauge his reaction as to whether she was successful or not, but his features were annoyingly neutral.

Eventually, he leaned forward and took up his wand, which was lying atop some papers on his desk, and waved it, conjuring up a small mirror. He handed it to Zoe who snatched it away from him rather greedily and turned it so she could see herself.

There, staring back at her was her face but, where normally her royal blue eyes resided, there were orbs as pale pink as her Easter dress had been. Zoe felt her jaw drop in disbelief. She looked up at her father with excited eyes.

"I did it!" she exclaimed.

He nodded once. "Yes, well done. If you wish, we can work on honing this ability. It's a rather intriguing manifestation of your magic, I must say—one worth exploring, I think."

Zoe agreed. She looked down at the mirror again and was almost saddened to see the pink begin to darken back to her natural color.

"Do you think I could make the color stay longer?" she asked.

"Yes, I imagine with a bit of practice, you could learn to use less effort to initiate the morph as well as sustain the color for longer periods of time." Her father leveled her with a stern expression then. "And we'll have to talk about appropriate times to change your eye color."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you can't have an unnatural color to your eyes when we are about in town here, for the Muggles may become suspicious."

"Do people really look at other peoples' eyes that much?" Zoe asked curiously.

Her father's eyes seemed to grow somewhat distant at that question. "You'd be surprised how much another's eyes can have an effect…"

He shook his head as if clearing away a thought.

"We will work to develop this ability, if you are amenable to it," he said with finality.

Zoe nodded.

"Alright, go take a bath. You smell like rat spleens and frog spawn."

She groaned and started to trudge away from him. "How come I have to take a bath? _You_ always smell like potions stuff…"

"Oh, because I'm the father and I said you have to," he sighed, teasing her a bit, as he waved her away.

Zoe wrinkled her nose in distaste, but made her way toward the bathroom anyway.

* * *

><p>Over the next several months, Zoe came to Severus relatively frequently—once a week, at least—asking to brew one potion or another. He always gave in to her requests because the girl just seemed so intensely motivated to do a good job and Severus had no desire to quash her enthusiasm. It was clear that Zoe <em>wanted<em> to succeed.

The fact of the matter was, however, that, although Zoe seemed to be grasping the overall theory of brewing as well as understanding the properties of a wide array of different ingredients, her practical application of the craft was, well… dismal. If he was honest, she'd be lucky to scrape an Acceptable out of an actual Potions class.

Though she could answer him as to what the active properties of a specific herb were, she was clueless as to how to prepare it. Even simple directions such as 'chop' and 'cut' were confused and she'd ruined a fair few ingredients based purely on her inability to distinguish the difference.

Her assessment of how lacewing flies could be substituted for damselflies in a Forgetfulness Draught simply because their wings were "floatier" _had_ been rather inspired for a child her age, though—for any child, really. Scratch that. Very few of the N.E.W.T. students he'd had would have come to quite the same conclusion…

Yet, her timing was absolutely horrendous, to say the least, and her overall patience when it came to simmering, boiling and stirring was almost at naught. Severus also grew weary of explaining _why_ certain components went into the brew in certain orders, only to be disregarded when it came time to actually add to a potion.

He'd lost his temper with her on three separate occasions in the months since they had begun brewing. The first time, he'd made her sit beside her ruined potion and write, _'I will not have a careless disregard of the combustibility of porcupine quills' _fifty times before assisting her in brewing the Boil-Cure Potion again. Once, he'd chided her a bit, after having just barely kept a mild sleeping draught from boiling over—twice—due to a miscalculation of the potency of gurdyroots and trama roots. He was certain that he had specifically told her to steep them and use only the juice for the solution, not to throw the whole damn root into the cauldron.

The last time they had brewed, he'd ended their session early and sent her away to her bedroom, unable to understand how a simple Anti-Nausea potion could yield such an acrid smoke.

He had not been proud of those moments.

That time, he'd had a remorseful, bawling nine-year-old on his hands within minutes that he had to try to convince that he was not angry with, merely slightly frustrated. Even after spending the day speaking softly to her and, once again, helping her to brew the Anti-Nausea again—almost successfully, this time—Zoe still didn't seem to believe him.

It wasn't until he had asked her if she would like to watch him brew the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin that the girl seemed to perk up and forget his outburst over her failed potion. She had sat quietly and observed his every move, it seemed. Never once did she give Severus any indication that she was bored and, from time to time, she even asked some very astute questions. By the time they had finished, she had become her affable self once more—just in time for Lupin to arrive for his dose, his litter in tow.

Teddy Lupin, accompanying his father during his half-term break from Hogwarts, was now a strapping young man of sixteen and seemed to have grown as reserved as his father. He had greeted Severus with a firm handshake, called him 'Mr. Snape', and refused to sit down until invited. Severus had been…surprised—especially coming from the child of a Marauder. The other child, however…

"Papa! Mr. Lupin! Gracie's in the tree!" Zoe screamed from the back garden before running through the back door and into the kitchen where Severus was sitting drinking tea and barely speaking to Lupin.

"Is she falling from the tree?" Severus asked, putting a finger into his ringing ear as he turned to look at his daughter, who had come to stand at his side.

"No," Zoe said.

"Ah, then I think an indoor voice will suffice for imparting such information in future."

"Okay. But she's just sitting in the branches and she _could_ fall and, well…"

"And what?"

"You never let me climb the tree," the girl mumbled.

"Yes, well, unlike Mr. Lupin, I do not believe my daughter to be a monkey."

"But it looks like fun."

_Of course it does_, Severus thought cynically. The Lupins had been there for ten minutes and already they were corrupting Zoe with their uncouth behaviors.

He quirked an eyebrow at the professor across from him for a bit of assistance. Lupin started to rise, shaking his head.

"Not to worry, Severus. Grace is an avid tree-climber. But she knows not to climb others' trees without permission."

"I'll get her, Dad," Teddy said, entering from the sitting room suddenly and crossing out the door to the back garden.

Lupin followed right behind his son and Severus watched them go, but turned back to see a very sour look upon his daughter's face.

He arched an eyebrow at her.

"Mr. Lupin lets Gracie climb trees and she's only six. _I'm_ nine."

"Mr. Lupin lets Grace run wild," Severus stated plainly. "And I've no doubt that he will continue to do so when she's nine."

"Not so. Gracie says she gets in trouble and stuff."

"You're about to get in trouble _and stuff_, young lady. I'm not going to have this conversation with you."

Zoe huffed but remained quiet and turned to make her way back outside. Severus rose to follow her, coming to stand by her side on the back step. Across the small garden, Lupin and Teddy were looking up into the tree in the far right corner, opposite the greenhouse, trying to coax the small girl from it. It was only a sugar maple—a rather sickly one that had never really grown to its full potential. Through the new foliage, he could just barely make out the form of Grace Lupin as she carefully maneuvered herself down the branches until she was standing before her father and brother.

The family talked for a minute before making their way back to the Snapes. Once in front of them, Lupin gave his daughter's shoulder a bit of pressure to push her forward so that she was standing directly in front of Severus.

Teddy Lupin may have acquired Nymphadora's Metamorphmagus genes, but the physical features had ended there with her son. However, the petite child standing before him took much from her mother—a heart-shaped face, dark-brown eyes, and the mousy-brown hair he'd seen Nymphadora revert to on several occasions. Only her ears and gangly limbs seemed to come from her father. _Unfortunate girl_, Severus thought rather meanly.

At his stern gaze, the little girl averted her eyes to her shoes.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Snape. I shoulda asked ta climb your tree." There was little remorse in her tone.

"Indeed," Severus said rather indifferently. He cared little that she had climbed it; only that the notion to do so had been put into Zoe's head.

Soon after, Lupin finished his dose of Wolfsbane and the family left, leaving Severus and Zoe in the sitting room.

"I wouldn't have fallen, you know," Zoe said suddenly from where she was sitting on the sofa, staring at him apparently. Severus had felt her eyes through his book from where he sat across from her in his green armchair.

"You do not know that."

"Yes I do."

Severus put his book down and looked at his daughter, slightly annoyed with her arguing with him. "_How_ do you know, then?" he challenged.

Zoe shifted uncomfortably, her expression almost instantly contrite. Severus knew now that her pride had pushed her to boldly make her statement about knowing she wouldn't have fallen and she was regretting having said anything now. He narrowed his eyes when she didn't respond to his question.

"_How_ do you know?"

Zoe's averted eyes came up to meet his. "I've been in the tree before," she said sorrowfully.

"And?"

"And I… kind of fell."

Severus huffed loudly, perturbed by her disobedience. "_Kind_ _of_ fell? How can you _kind_ _of_ fall? You either fell, or you didn't."

"All right. I fell. But I was fine. When I hit the ground, it was soft, like… a pile of laundry."

Severus leveled his daughter with a stern gaze. "And when was this?"

"A while ago."

"Have you continued to climb the tree despite my wishes?"

Zoe shook her head ardently. "I wanted to but…"

"But you had been told not to?"

Zoe nodded.

Severus sighed. "Very well." He pointed a finger at her. "It would be unwise to do it again."

Zoe's eyes widened—no doubt shocked that he'd decided to let her get away with it—but she nodded.

In truth, Severus was only letting her off because, had she _not_ disobeyed him and fallen from the tree, her wandless, spontaneous cushioning charm may never have manifested itself. He would have to remember to add that to his running log of Zoe's immature magic. The girl was still two years from Hogwarts and yet, she was already so advanced for her age. Not that she knew it, of course, and there was still so much for her to learn and experience.

"Papa?" Zoe suddenly said, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

Zoe shook her head. "Nothing. You were just far away for a second."

"Forgive me."

Zoe nodded and sat quietly.

"Have you been working with your eyes?" he asked her.

Zoe nodded again. "Give me a color."

It had become a sort-of game.

"Jade."

Zoe rose from her place on the sofa and made her way to him, seating herself on the arm of his chair. She turned her face to look at him and blinked and in that moment, her eyes went from royal blue to jade. Severus smirked.

"All right, you've been working on the greens. How about crimson?"

"Easy," Zoe stated confidently. She blinked and, again, her eyes were the color he had requested.

He nodded his head in approval and so their game continued until dinner.

* * *

><p><strong>An absentis mens mos non hereditas scientia<strong>_** roughly translates to "An absent mind will not inherit knowledge." However, that comes from my measly semester's worth of college Latin and an online translator, so the translation may not be exact. Severus, of course, was commenting on Zoe's lack of attention to his lecture.**_

**_Unfortunately, this marks the end of my glimpses into the little Snape family and a respite for me from the world of fanfiction (really just posting, I still intend to read, of course). I do hope you will all keep a look out for my full-length story involving Severus and Zoe entitled _It's All For You,_ which I will hope to start posting in the next few weeks._**

_**Again, I live on reviews, so please post one and I hope you all have a wonderful day!**_

**MetamorphmagusLupin**


	5. Bonus

_**Okay, so some of you may hate me a bit for this because it is something of a cliffhanger, but I wanted to post a little snippet from my longer fic just to give my readers a bit of a taste. I just wanted to reiterate that I do have several of the beginning chapters finished and there are several chapters later on that are also finished, but I am still working to fully flesh out the story. I hope it will not be more than a few weeks before I start posting.**_

_**That being said, I hope you all enjoy this little sneak peek and please, feel free to review (or curse me) at the end. I hope you all have a wonderful day!**_

**MetamorphmagusLupin**

* * *

><p><strong> Excerpt from <em>It's All For You:<em>**

Zoe awoke to the unmistakable roar of the Floo downstairs igniting. She couldn't believe she'd fallen asleep but now that she was suddenly alert, she glanced over to the clock next to her bed. It was ten minutes past eleven.

_Merlin, Papa isn't going to be in a good mood about this at all,_ she thought as she leapt out of bed and silently bounded down two flights of stairs.

As she quietly and cautiously approached the cracked bookcase door, she heard her father speak.

"Headmistress." He sounded alarmed. "To what do I owe this late visit?"

"Is everything alright, Severus?" Minerva asked just as anxious.

Zoe peeked around the door into the tiny sitting room. Her father was still dressed in his customary black ensemble and was standing with his back to her, he was lowering his wand to his side and the book he had been reading lay unceremoniously on the floor at his feet. He had obviously assumed the person coming through the Floo was an intruder and had stood to defend himself and his home. Zoe looked past him to Minerva who stood just outside the grate. She looked quite frazzled and Zoe felt a bit guilty that she had caused the adults to worry so much.

"Of course it is," her father replied, picking up the book and laying it on a side table. "Why would it not be?"

Minerva seemed to breathe a sigh of relief then stepped forward, rummaging in a pocket of her robes.

"Not long ago, I received this message at my office at Hogwarts. It says it's urgent, so I came as quickly as I could."

Minerva came around the sofa and handed Zoe's father a sooty piece of parchment then pulled her own wand from her robes in order to siphon off all the ash and filth she'd accumulated in her journey through the fire. Zoe watched as her father took the message and read it.

After just a few moments, he spun around to face the stairs so quickly that Zoe was certain he'd seen her wide, astonished eyes as she hurriedly crouched back out of view. An instant later, the bookcase was thrown completely open by a spell, exposing Zoe in her hiding place, and she knew that her assumption had been correct.

She froze where she stood, half horrified.

"Come. Here. _Now_," her father ordered, pointing his finger at the rug directly before him.

Not daring to upset him even more by not doing as she was told, Zoe shuffled across the floor and tried to muster up as much courage as she could, looking first at her godmother's kind, but confused face then to her father's livid one as she came to a halt in front of him.

"You used my owl to send this, I presume?" he asked bitterly, pushing the parchment into her face.

Zoe hesitated for a moment—now staring at the note in her father's hand that clearly read: '_Min, I need your help. It's urgent. Zoe'_ in Zoe's own, hasty, joined-handwriting—then nodded.

"I…I thought you weren't being fair. I needed help."

"You know very well that my owl is for business only and that you are forbidden to use it. As for our previous discussion: it is at an end. I have made my decision."

"You didn't even think about what I wanted!" Zoe shouted as she looked up at Severus once more and felt her previous rage start to return.

"That's the luxury of being the parent," her father roared back mockingly. "I don't have to!"

Next to the sofa, Minerva had simply stared on, completely in the dark as to what this entire argument was about.

"Whoa!" she said, stepping between the father and daughter. "What's going on? What is this all about?"

Zoe pulled her defiant, blue eyes from her father's face and turned to her godmother.

"He won't let me go to Hogwarts!"

Minerva's eyebrows shot up in surprise and she turned quickly from Zoe to Zoe's father, a look of bewilderment on her face.


End file.
